Student in Sunnydale 5
by Enterprise1701-d
Summary: The completion of this series, this story takes place three years after part four. What is Phoenix Force? And what would happen if Glory showed her face in Sunnydale?


Student in Sunnydale 5.

The weather on the top of Mount Everest was clear. It was icy cold at such a high altitude, but there was virtually no wind, and the skies were clear. No clouds at this altitude. The sky was as blue as far as the eye could see, with the clouds visible below, in the valleys of the Himalayan Mountain Range. Two lonely figures make it up the Hillary Step, and are now less than a kilometer from the summit. 

The first figure was tall, broad, and dressed in a bright blue thermal insulation outfit. The second figure was smaller, and dressed in a neon-pink thermal outfit. The two figures were climbing without oxygen, the packs on their backs were unnaturally small, and it was obvious that neither had any problems with the enormous altitude. Both figures' faces were hidden behind large ski masks, and had a scarf thrown in front of their mouths. 

The taller figure motioned for the smaller one. Together, they jogged to the peak. 

The larger figure threw back the scarf covering his mouth, his breath making small clouds of condensing water vapor in the icy cold air. "We made it, Love," Llewellyn told Buffy. "Buffy, meet the top of the world!"

Buffy threw back her own scarf, panting heavily in the thin air. She righted herself from the bent-over position she had assumed after the small jog. Her brown eyes took in the 360-degree view. "Beautiful," she said, still trying to catch her breath. "How … do you … do it?" she panted to her companion. "I'm … panting my … lungs out!"

Llewellyn smiled. "The benefit of Immortality, My Love. Take deep breaths. Within ten minutes, you should be accustomed to the altitude. While you wait, I'm going to see if I can't find something…" He took a few measured paces, then started raking snow aside with his heavily insulated arms.

"What?" Buffy asked, looking confused at her companion. "Honey? What are you looking for?" she asked again, when she received no answer. 

"You'll see, My Love," Llewellyn answered finally, still digging through the snow. Buffy had no other choice but wait. She felt her body adapting, her blood thickening with red blood cells, thicker than any mortal's could ever be.

Finally, Llewellyn came up; carrying a rock he had dug out of the snow. It had some strange markings scratched into it. "Here. Look at this."

Buffy took the stone, and looked it over. "What does this mean, Honey?" she asked. 

"This marks the place where I, Pa Ma-au, won the sanity of my mind," Llewellyn said, his finger tracing the ancient writing. "It's 1475 years old. Twenty-eight years after Ingrid's death."

Buffy shook her head, not surprised at the fact that Llewellyn was the first to climb Mount Everest. "That's big," she said. "The place you came after writing the Necronomicon."

"After the Necronomicon and the monks that helped me," Llewellyn added. He gently took the stone. "Come, my friend. Let's put you back where you came from," he told the rock, and gently put it back in the pit, and filled it with snow. Within minutes, the peak seemed undisturbed.

Buffy looked around, taking in the full view once more. Crystal-clear blue sky above her, and snowy white, thick clouds below. 

"Come, My Love. This place should work better," Llewellyn said, after allowing her five more minutes to look around. "It certainly helped me." He looked at the tattooed tiger and dragon on his forearms. 

"Right," Buffy said quietly, turned back to focus on Llewellyn. He sat down, cross-legged. Buffy mimicked him, and sat down, facing him. "Let's do this."

"Close your eyes," Llewellyn said. "Listen only to my voice. Nothing exists but my voice."

Buffy's breathing slowed. "Be calm. Relax," Llewellyn continued on a calm tone. Buffy's muscles visibly relaxed. "Think of love, and protection. Look within yourself to find such a place. Focus on it. Center your awareness on this place of protection."

In Buffy's mind, a scene began to unfold. It was still fuzzy, but it was growing sharper. "Go there. Center your awareness on this special place where you are loved, and protected." The mindscape blurred, came into focus rather abruptly. Buffy's body took in a deep breath, yet the trance remained the same. 

"Where are you?" Llewellyn asked. "Forest," Buffy whispered lazily, as if half-asleep. "Lake."

_A FOREST_? Llewellyn asked. _I never would have seen her as a forest-dweller. _"Clear sky," Buffy continued. Llewellyn frowned. Why that detail?

"Calmly look around," Llewellyn instructed, on the hypnotizing tone. "The first animal you encounter is your Spirit Guide."

Mind-Buffy looked around the mindscape. There didn't appear to be any fish in the water. She looked around. "Bird," she whispered. "Small, black."

_Hmm. A bird, _Llewellyn thought. _That explains the sky. _"What now?" Buffy's body asked.

"Ask it whatever you want," Llewellyn said.

Mind-Buffy walked to the small black bird, sitting on a nearby tree branch. "Hello, little guy," she said amicably. "Who are you?"

The bird cocked its head, seeming to take her in. //Are you sure you want to know?// the bird seemed to ask in her mind.

"I don't scare easily," Mind-Buffy replied, smiling.

//I will show you,// the bird answered, and fluttered up. Buffy followed it with her eyes as it fluttered to the clear sky above the lake. //I am called the Phoenix,// the bird thought to her, spreading its wings in mid-air, and raising its head on its flexible neck, screaming at the skies. The small bird became engulfed in flames. The size remained the same, yet the black color had changed to bright red, and its entire body seemed covered in flames. The phoenix returned to Buffy, and sat down on the same branch it had occupied earlier. 

"A Phoenix," Mind-Buffy said. Her body said the same thing, only on a monotone tone. Llewellyn's jaw hit the ground. _She has the Phoenix to guide her? The single creature able to take on a Dragon? _Llewellyn looked at his wrist. _Of course… only a Phoenix could stand living with a Dragon._

//Yes,// the bird thought to her, cocking its head again. 

"Okay, now I'm impressed," Buffy answered. She studied the bird for a few moments. The bright red feathers and the flaming aura gave it an impressive appearance. "You're cute."

The phoenix raised on eyebrow. //Thanks…// it thought, rather uncertain.

"Anyway, I came here to find you. I couldn't even get here back home," Buffy told the bird. "Why was that?"

//I must apologize for that,// the phoenix answered. //I couldn't hear you. Now that we've made contact, we are closer, and I will be able to hear you back home. We mystical creatures have trouble with densely populated areas.//

"Are there other types of guides as well?" Buffy asked. "You said 'we mystical creatures'. Are there other types?"

The phoenix seemed to give her the bird version of a smile. //You are very strong, Buffy. You have a phoenix as spirit guide. Your companion actually has two guides, the tiger and the dragon, both extremely strong guides in their own right. But, only the Dragon is a mystical creature. The natural guides; like the tiger, the dog, the cat, and normal animals each have own characteristics, but it's we mystics that guide the strongest of people. Those destined for greatness.// 

"I'm destined for greatness? Cool!" Buffy replied.

//You already are great,// the phoenix answered. //You protect humanity. All Slayers have a very strong guide. Yet it is rare for a Slayer to contact hers.//

"Kendra?" Buffy asked. "Faith?" 

//I will know only if they contact theirs. I can not look into the future, only into yourself, and the surrounding world. I help you understand yourself.//

"I see," Buffy answered, thinking that over. "Well, it's been nice talking to you. But right now, I think my butt's going to freeze to the ground."

The phoenix gave her that birdlike grin once more. //Be well, my charge. Do not hesitate to call if you need my help.//

"I won't," Buffy promised. The next moment, her body opened its eyes. Buffy's mind slowly came back online.

"Intense," Buffy told Llewellyn, who was still seated in front of her.

"I can imagine. I heard you say 'Phoenix'," Llewellyn answered, getting up, and helping her to her feet.

"My guide. It's a phoenix," Buffy replied. "He explained about the mystical guides and the fact that they help those destined for greatness. And then he told me I already was great!" Buffy said, almost bouncing up and down with excitement. 

Llewellyn smiled. "My pair told me the same thing when I first contacted them. Don't rest on your laurels, you can always become better," he told her. 

"I know," Buffy answered, hugging him. "Thanks for showing him to me, Honey," she told her companion.

"No problem," Llewellyn answered, hugging her. "Come on, let's get back to Katmandu. The jet will take us home."

On a rooftop of a tall building, three shadowy figures make their stealthy way to the edge. All three are dressed in ninja outfits, totally black except for some gold on the insides of the wrists and forearms. All three have the hoods thrown up, hiding their faces, and their identities. The largest of the three installs an automated winch, and connects the line he has around his waist to the machine. He enters a few numbers, including his weight and the length of descent.

He raises his two thumbs, which his two companions return. He gets up on the ledge, and jumps. The winch detects the wait, and slows down the rate of descent to an acceptable level. The amount of rope is displayed. When it nears its target, it slows the man down, until it stops completely. The man is hanging still outside a window.

He takes out an industrial-type meter, and connects the measuring pins to the first bolt holding the window. He takes a reading, and repeats with the other bolts. Nodding to himself, the man grabs a spool of electrical wire, connects the bolts, and takes another reading. No change. He takes a complex glasscutter, cuts a perfect circle out the window, and ties it securely to a second rope that has been lowered without letting it hit the floor. He gives two small tugs on the rope. It was lifted by his two companions, still up on the roof. 

He reaches into one of the many pockets of the ninjutsu gi, pulls out a pair of binoculars, and ties them to his head. Now able to see in the infrared spectrum, the man sees lines of laser-detectors crisscrossing the room. The man took a moment to familiarize himself with the motion detectors that are present as well. Seeing them indicated on a blueprint and seeing them in real life came close, but it was still not the same. The man smiled behind his mask. He tugged his rope twice. 

Up on the rooftop, one of the figures had a laptop connected to some wires. The figure's gauntleted fingers raced the Dvorak-keyboard. "Gabriel. Security?" the figure typed. 

_Security 100%, _the laptop displayed. _Silence mode active – text only. Quantum Innovations Main Processor not detected. Mobile P IV one-point-five GHz enabled. Intelligence factor limited._

"Get me Orc," the figure typed. The screen, which had displayed a man with a pair of wings and a battle dress on a yellow-ochre background, changed into a new setting. The background was now made up of reds and oranges, and displayed a more brutish man, more heavily muscled, but wearing virtually nothing of armor. "Orc. Hack security."

_Connecting. Outside connection disabled by default, _Orc replied. _Overriding. _Rows of computer code scrolled over the screen. _Override complete. _New lines, commands this time, scrolled across the screen, in the background between Orc and the background of the monitor itself. _Access granted._

"Get me Tyrial," the figure typed. Gentle blues and greens took over, an angel with a more intelligent appearance taking the brutish Orc's place. "Tyrial. Access security system. Floor 55. Disable."

_Security system has a failsafe. Unable to disable until seven-thirty tomorrow morning. The clock is connected to the atomic clock of the university. It can not be overridden from this location. Outside connected required._

"They've upgraded since we got our intel. Damn. Take camera samples, and give a continuous override feed with those samples."

_Camera override active. But the motion detectors and the lasers are still active. _

"Don't worry," the figure typed. She pressed the microphone to her throat. "The cameras are disabled. I can't disable the rest without giving big alarm."

A small _tick_ came back through, indicating her message had been received. 

Ten floors below, the figure lowered himself into the room, and slowly disconnected his safety line. Slowly, ever so slowly, he made his ways to the motion detectors. All motion detectors had a built-in safety margin. It wouldn't do to call a grand alarm for every bird that flew by the window, or for a plant that moved because of a starting air-conditioning. For that very reason, all motion detectors worked also on infrared. Only a warm moving object would get attention.

The figure slowly made his way under a second laser beam. He had to get under. He couldn't jump over them. The first motion detector was now in his grasp. He slowly raised a piece of aluminum foil into place. It was a good insulator, stopping the infrared from scanning the room. A second motion detector was present at the other side of the room. If he could get that one deactivated, he would be home free. It took him nearly ten minutes to cross the room. Finally, the piece was in place. 

"Safe," he said in his microphone. 

The second figure, the one that had raised the circle of glass, lowered to the window, took out her infrared goggles, and got into the room. The third figure stayed up on the roof, checking the security system. 

"Tyrial. I don't understand," the figure typed. "Isn't it required by law that the system be able to be shut down? Or shouldn't there be a police override?"

_Law requires such a measure, _Tyrial answered dutifully. _Yet I do not see it._

"Look under miscellaneous."

_Override found. Shall I enable? _

"It would alert the security guards in the basement. First put program 'stealth' in place. Then deactivate."

_Acknowledge. Program in place. System deactivated._

"All clear!" the third figure said in the microphone. "They upgraded, but it didn't stop me!"

Inside, the two others went ahead with their business unhindered. The woman disappeared into an adjourning office, while the man rounded a corner, and walked to the far end of the hallway. He stopped in front of a heavy vault door. He cracked his knuckles. A small screwdriver appeared in his hand, and he started prying at the small keypad embedded in the wall. It was a completely autonomous system, and as such, couldn't be deactivated by remote. 

After prying the keypad off the wall, the man looked at the wiring. _Stupid fucks. They didn't even change the color-coding of the wires. _The man took a small piece of electrical wire, stripped its insulation, and crossed the green and red wires. The keys on the pad turned from red to green, and the door unlatched.

He walked inside, and stopped in front of a safe with an old-fashioned dial. Taking a small device from his backpack, the man installed it. A microphone was stuck to the safe door, and a special connector was stuck to the spindle. "Find," the man muttered as he pressed the button. The machine started spinning the dial at a tremendous rate. _Click. Click. Click. Click. Click. Click. _The device stopped, and the man opened the door after unlatching his device. 

Ten seconds. Not bad, the man thought as he took a small box out of the safe. _The prototype P VI. Three thousand two hundred MHz. Oh, yeah. AMD is going to pay so much for this baby. _The man's mind left out the fact that Intel paid a lot of money for AMD's K6 a while back. It all evened out in the end. He closed the safe, spun the dial to reset it, and walked out of the vault. He closed the door, uncrossed his wire, and stuck the keypad back in place. 

His companion came out of the office at the exact same time. She held out a CD. The man nodded, held out the box, and the duo made its way back to where the safety cable was still waiting. The woman connected first, and was hoisted to the roof by the remaining companion. 

Patrick had been careful when he had led his team inside. He had been so careful! It was supposed to be an almost routine intervention. Three dozen vampires in the basement of an abandoned building in a small rural town, somewhere in Italy. They had entered in broad daylight, and had smashed all the boarded windows. Sunlight poured in, preventing the vampires from coming out of the basement. 

"Hugo. Beatrice," Patrick had whispered. He was a muscular man, still very fit for his forty years of age. Hugo and Beatrice had readied their flamethrowers. At his signal, they had burst into the basement, while being covered by Sabrina, their witch. Standard policy. No team went out without a magic-user. Although it limited the amount of teams that could operate at a time, it did increase the life expectancy of those teams.

The basement had been cleared. Thirty dead vampires. Patrick had started calling it in. "Vulture Leader to Phoenix Headquarters. Basement is clear. Repeat basement is clear." 

Patrick cried out when he emptied his M16A2's entire magazine of magnesium-cored incendiary rounds into a vampire. The beast howled, and turned to ashes. Sabrina whispered another incantation. Another fireball left the tips of her fingers. Patrick could see the sweat pearling on her face. His team was tied down, bang in the middle of the basement, surrounded by vampires. A secret entrance had revealed a sub-basement, hiding fifty or so vampires. 

Well-armed vampires. Sabrina's magic shield held the beasts back, but it had come down to their Titanium-Kevlar battle suits to keep them safe from the bullets. 

"This is Vulture Squad! We are under attack! Need assistance! Phoenix Force, do you copy!? We need assistance! We had faulty intel! Sub-basement held fifty bloodsuckers! We are surrounded and tied down! Repeat, urgent back-up requested!" Patrick shouted into his microphone, his voice quivering with adrenalin.

"Phoenix HQ, we're doing everything we can, Patrick! Hang on! We're trying to get a relief team together!"

"Acknowledged, HQ," Patrick replied as he fired his last shot. _Damn. That's my last M16 round! _He dropped the rifle, and drew his Colt sidearm. It too was loaded with the magnesium cores. He heart shot a vampire. It didn't seem to stop the beast as it pounded on Sabrina's weakening defense. After three seconds, the beast started howling, before turning to dust. _Damn incendiaries. Take three seconds to kill! _Patrick fingered the hilt of his sword. As all Phoenix Force operatives, Patrick was schooled in the use of a sword. But, just like all other operatives, Patrick detested using the thing. Too up close and personal. 

Llewellyn's jet touched down on the secret airstrip of Phoenix Force Headquarters. Buffy smiled when she stepped off the ladder. It felt good to be home. Buffy drew in a deep breath of desert air. _I can't believe how much this place has changed in three years. I can't believe how much Slaying has changed, period! That ultra-secret clearance allowed us to find every person who ever filed something concerning the paranormal. All we had to do was play match-up, to see who actually saw a vampire, and who's just a fruitcake. _Buffy sighed. _So many good people lost their jobs because of what they saw. Good thing we gave them a new purpose. Well, those who wanted it, anyway._

Buffy and Llewellyn cleared the security check without problems. They were famous. Legendary, especially because Llewellyn still insisted on teaching the advanced swordsman classes himself, with Buffy pitching in every now and then. 

They took the elevator down to minus fifteen, where HQ was located, deep underground, and well protected against any kind of attacks. The couple walked into the main command room, one end taken up by a huge screen, displaying a world map.

"Hang on! We're trying to get a relief team together!" Patricia shouted in her microphone.

"What's wrong?" Llewellyn immediately asked.

"Vulture Squad's tied down. Fifty vamps hidden in sub-basement ambushed them," Patricia told the Immortal as her fingers raced the keyboard, trying to find some people who were available. Llewellyn and Buffy exchanged a glance. They nodded at each other.

"Where's Em?" Llewellyn asked a second officer. 

"Library, sir," the officer replied, saluting.

Llewellyn nodded. "Who else is there?"

"Mr. Giles and Mr. Harris, sir," the officer replied. "They are assisting Mrs. Harris with some magical research."

Llewellyn turned to Patricia, the communications officer currently assigned to Vulture Squad. "Contact the library. Notify Em, Xander and Rupert of the situation."

"With all due respect, they're on leave, sir! Regulations say that no member on leave my be disturbed unless a cataclysmic event is taking place!"

"Contact them. They'll still have the option of refusing. Tell them we'll be in the Gate Room in five minutes," Llewellyn said, almost losing his patience. 

"Yes, sir," Patricia answered, fumbling with her microphone. "Hang on, Vulture Squad, backup is underway. Library, this is HQ. We have a situation…" her speech cut off when the automatic doors slid shut behind the couple.

A door labeled 'War Room' slid open, allowing access to the couple. They started gearing up. Less than a minute after they were in the room, three people ported in. Esmeralda snapped her fingers. The entire team was dressed. They were all wearing pitch-black narrow-fitting suits, made of Titanium-Kevlar of a special kind, giving complete protection, but still allowing for maximum maneuverability. The suits covered their entire bodies, from the neck down to the feet. The shoes were of special design, allowing complete stealth and mobility. They were also wearing a vest, containing extra bullets as well as some other equipment. A belt contained two guns, two hardwood stakes, and their swords. 

"Welcome back," Esmeralda told Llewellyn and Buffy. They dipped their heads in response.

"Okay. Let's do this," Llewellyn said, looking at the people. They nodded at him, and he said, "Prepare."

Everybody held out his or her sword, tip down, in front of their bodies. Esmeralda was the only one who didn't, and she started waving her hands. Their swords glowed. She started a second time. This time, their bodies glowed. "Your swords are now the Holy Weapons of the Warriors of Light," Esmeralda said religiously. 

They all sheathed their swords. "Ready," Llewellyn said. "Ready," Buffy added. "Ready," Xander replied. "Ready," Giles took his turn. 

While Esmeralda closed her eyes to get the Italian battleground in her dimension-sight, Buffy whispered, "Boldly they rode and well, into the jaws of Death…"

"Into the mouth of Hell," Llewellyn finished. Xander shook his head. 

"Tennyson, The Charge of the Light Brigade," Giles replied. "You're having a really good influence on Buffy, Mr. Morgan."

"Hey!" Buffy grunted good-naturedly. 

"Prepare for battle," Esmeralda said, snapping her fingers after opening her eyes. The team found themselves on the ground floor of the battle zone, immediately switched into combat-mode, and rushed down the stairs.

"Why? You think you can take us?" a dark-haired beauty asked an African-American man who was leaning against a neon-green Honda S2000. The car was fully tuned, of course. The dark-haired girl could not be older than nineteen, while the man was at the end of his twenties, if not in his early thirties. She was leaning against a pitch-black BMW convertible. The convertible too, had been modified: lowered suspension, custom exhaust and intake systems, and so on. The car had its top down, and Kendra was seated in the passenger seat.

"Girl, I own your ass!" the man said. "_And_ your car, if you race me."

The girl pulled out a bundle of cash. "Two grand and the pink slip to my car say you can't beat us," she stated, waving the bundle under the man's nose. He was almost drooling over the package.

"Accepted," the black man said. "I'll see you at the quarter mile!" With those words, he stalked around the hood of his car, and disappeared behind the wheel. The car drove off, civilly keeping to the two-times-the-legal-limit border.

The dark-haired girl jumped over the door, and landed in the leather seat. 

"Faith? This is Buffy's car," Kendra stated. "If we lose, she will have our heads!"

"Then we'd better not lose, had we, Sweets?" Faith replied, turning to her companion. "Come on, K! Live a little! Don't you feel the adrenalin flowing through your veins?"

"I can feel something, and it is NOT adrenalin," Kendra replied with conviction. Faith leaned in, and kissed Kendra on the lips. "How do you talk me into these things?" Kendra asked, smiling slightly at her girlfriend.

"Now I'm feeling something that's not adrenalin," Faith grunted. "Sweets, do you think we've got time…?"

"Race first. Cuddle later," Kendra replied, smiling. "See it as an incentive."

"Girl, with those kinds of incentive, I would beat the Indy car World Champion," Faith replied, gunning the engine, and taking off towards the impromptu racing track: a deserted industrial site. All they needed was a quarter mile of straight, flat road. The site had come to life with a few hundred spectators, and a couple dozen drivers. The atmosphere was an intoxicating mixture of high-octane exhaust fumes, alcohol, and drugs of various legalities. Couple this to the roar of engines and adrenalin-charged nerves, and you had the illegal street racing championships of LA. 

Faith parked her…Buffy's car with the rest of the contenders, and removed a small laptop from the glove compartment. The opened the lightweight carbon fiber hood, and connected the laptop. "Yo, T-man!" she told the Tyrial AI. "Be a sweetheart, and fine-tune this little honey, will ya?"

_Fine-tuning performance chip. Switching to high-octane fuel. Increasing supercharger pressure. Increasing pressure ratio in cylinders. _The AI went through the checklist. _Fine-tune complete._

"Thanks, Tyr," Faith told the laptop, and disconnected it from the engine management system. The laptop disappeared back into the glove box, and Faith jumped back behind the wheel. She gunned the engine. The almost-inaudible growl had made way for a more pronounced purr, almost like a big cat. She pressed the accelerator. The engine growled like an enraged tiger. 

"Purrs like a cat and growls like a tiger!" Faith crowed. "That asshole doesn't stand a chance!"

"Really?" the asshole in question asked, suddenly appearing right next to the car. "Care to increase your bet on that, ladies?"

"Like what?" Faith asked. "We already bet two grand and our cars. What would you have in mind?" she asked seductively.

"Two extra grand against a night with your little friend," the black man said, leering at Kendra. Faith turned to look at Kendra. Slowly, a smirk broke out.

"You wouldn't!" Kendra protested. "Faith, don't you dare!"

"Four extra, and you've got a deal," Faith said, turning to her challenger. 

The man grinned, and nodded, smiling broadly. "Six G's and my car against your two G's, your car, and your girl. Boy, what a deal!" the man shouted. He left, laughing.

"Expect to sleep alone tonight," Kendra rumbled. "For a very long time."

"But Sweets…" Faith tried. Kendra turned to look away from Faith. "But Sweets, it's a sure bet! There's no way we can lose! We've got Phoenix supporting us! Technology 'R' Us! Stefan has set up this baby himself!"

"You do not bet me," Kendra said. "I am not your property, _miss_ Spencer."

"But…" Faith tried again.

"No!" Kendra said, angrily terminating the conversation. 

Faith's hands hit the modified racing steering wheel. _Damn! _The dark-haired slayer's mind shouted. _Damn! Damn! Damn!_

"Do not damage the ride. Buffy will be angry enough that you bet her baby. Do not piss her off entirely by damaging the merchandise!" Kendra admonished. Faith stopped hitting the wheel, staring baffled at her girlfriend. 

"Kendra, please…I'm sorry, ok? I didn't know what came over me. It's just… we can't lose! I'm sure of it! Come on, don't be angry…"

"First win. Then we shall see. But know that, if you lose, I will not be responsible for what happens," Kendra said coldly. Knowing this was about the best she could hope for, Faith shut up. The cars started moving. Obviously, the races had started. After about fifteen minutes, Faith came up against her still unnamed opponent.

The starter was a slightly drunk urban redneck Faith didn't know. He pointed at Faith. She raised her thumb over the windshield of the convertible. The man pointed at the black man in the Honda S2000. He too, raised his thumb. He must have, because the starter's two arms went into the air. The engines revved. His arms dropped to shoulder level. The car inched forward, 'jumping' the tiny amount of space. The arms dropped completely, and Kendra pressed her chronometer at the exact same time, her Slayer reflexes coming in very handy.

The two cars roared off. _First gear. _Fifty kilometers an hour. Still side-by side the two cars roared along the stretch of road. Kendra looked at the opposing car. _Second gear. _A hundred kilometers an hour. They were still side-by side. Kendra looked at her driver. Was Faith looking worried? Kendra didn't like this! Third gear. One hundred sixty. Faith was definitely not looking fine now. Sweat was rolling down her face. Her hand was shaking when it flew from the wheel to the gearshift, her foot double-clutching the racing transmission, as she should do. Fourth. Two hundred twenty. The cars were still flanking each other. Faith snarled, and pressed a red button on the steering wheel. A little ID tag above the button said 'NOS 1'. Faith pressed down hard, and in doing so, released a stream of nitrous oxide into the engine. Instant Adrenalin In A Bottle. The car's raw power doubled. The car shot over the finish. First. The quarter mile was finished. Kendra stopped the timer. Nine-point-nine seconds. Not their best run, but enough to win.

Faith released the NOS-boost, and stepped on the breaks. The engine idled, growling dangerously after the heavy run. 

"Now THAT was FUN!" Faith shouted exuberantly, and looked at her companion. Kendra's normally dark complexion was a whiter shade of pale.

"That fun nearly had me in bed with someone to pay off your debts," Kendra grunted, color slowly returning.

The neon-green Honda came to a standstill next to the BMW. The man got out, looking so much less sure of himself now. Faith got out of her car.

"Damn, girl," the man grunted. "That's one fast set of wheels you've got there!"

"You're not so bad either," Faith said. "I had to hit the NOS reserve."

"_What_?" the man shouted. "When?"

"Final stretch. Why?" Faith asked, curiously.

"I was running NOS since second gear," the man grunted. "Ah, MAN!"

Faith chuckled slightly. "Anyway, pay up."

The man grunted, and handed over six thousand dollars. He took out the keys to his car, and hesitated. Faith looked at him. "I'll let you off easy," the dark-haired Slayer finally said. "Keep the wheels. But remember, next time I'm taking every cent you got, _and_ the ride."

"Thanks!" the man shouted, smiling. "I won't forget it. I mean that!"

"See that you don't," Faith replied, not unkindly, and revved the still idling engine. She roared off, not bothering to take the car out of racing mode.

"All we're leaving is our business card," the second woman said, pointing to the circle of glass that had been cut out of the window. The two others shrugged.

"They need to know we did it some way," the first woman said. "Anyway, we're done here. Let's head back. We have what we came for."

The man threw back the hood. "Phoenix Force, here we come," Crevan joked. The two others threw back their own hoods as well. Amy and Willow looked at one another, before one of them snapped her fingers, porting the entire group directly into the command center of Phoenix Force.

They immediately knew something was wrong. "Backup is under way, Vulture Squad!" Patricia shouted in her microphone. "Esmeralda is with them! She can heal Ben and Beatrice!"

"What's that about Em?" Amy asked, dropping to her knees right next to Patricia's seat, so she could look the communications officer in the eye.

"She, Mr. Harris, Mr. Giles, and Mr. and Mrs. Morgan are going over there to help out Vulture Squad. They were ambushed by fifty vampires, Ma'am."

Amy looked over her shoulder at her two companions. "No time to change, Hon," Willow muttered. "Prepare for port."

The trio appeared in the middle of battle.

Patrick and Hugo stood over Ben, trying to cover him with his sword. He could see the only two other members of his team, Sabrina and Jean, trying to do the same for Beatrice. The Dutch woman had taken a nasty bite. Ben had been hit by a club. The suits were bullet proof, but didn't stop things like clubbing. For the moment, the thirty remaining vampires were slowly circling their prey. The vampires knew that they were theirs for the picking.

Then, Patrick heard someone shout some sort of battle cry, a fierce howl something in between the roar of a lion and the growl of a tiger, and he looked towards the staircase. A group of people had entered the room, and every Phoenix Force member recognized them instantly. Llewellyn. Buffy. Esmeralda. Xander. Giles. Five members of the legendary Scooby Gang. Patrick wanted to smile evilly at the vampires, and he probably would have done so if the concern for his injured team members wasn't so dominant in his mind.

Llewellyn, Buffy, Xander, and Giles all had swords out, and were engaging the vampires, which had turned away from their injured prey in an act of self-preservation. It was something genetic in current vampires… human + sword = danger. The thirty remaining vampires charged the newcomers. 

Llewellyn and Buffy rushed forward, literally running straight into the on storming horde of vampires. Xander and Giles stood right in front of Esmeralda, who had her both hands raised. Magical holy bolts flashed from her fingertips, killing any vampire that came in her line of sight.

The next moment, the air seemed to ripple, forming a circular port, and deposited three people. Three ninjas. Patrick gulped. _Damn, magic ninjas! Glory's really pulling out all the stops! _Then, the three ninjas engaged the vampires. _They're on _our _side?_

Llewellyn decapitated two vampires with a single stroke, then ducked under a swing from a club, and disemboweled a third vampire. Buffy side-kicked a vampire, breaking the creature's neck by snapping its head back. At the same time, her sword was flaying in the exact opposite direction, and decapitated the vampire Llewellyn had gutted. 

The three ninjas had drawn their own swords, and engaged the startled mass of remaining vampires. The bloodsuckers finally regained some sense when one of them realized they were still holding weaponry. They opened fire on the newcomers. Llewellyn, Buffy, Xander, Giles, and Esmeralda were protected by the battle suits. The ninjas weren't. Their ninjutsu gis had no bulletproofing whatsoever, and the three fell to dozens of bullets that riddled their bodies. Even the bulletproofed people had some trouble. The bullets didn't penetrate, but the impact could still be felt. It took every bit of their self-control to remain upright under the barrage. Most normal people would be on the floor, wriggling in pain.

Llewellyn and Buffy pressed forward, helping the first ninja, who was coming back to life. Crevan threw back his hood. Willow and Amy were still out. "Dammit, girls! You're magic-users! You should've used your magic," the Immortal grunted, knowing very well that Llewellyn and Buffy could hold the vampires back. Because the two were now out of the direct line, Xander and Giles had to deal with attacks thrown at Esmeralda, who was still blasting away whenever she had the opportunity. The battle would be over soon. The vampires didn't stand a chance against the almost-complete Scooby Gang, and Patrick couldn't be happier. 

"How are they?" he asked Sabrina, who was doing her best to help the injured.

"I don't know," Sabrina answered, shaking her head in frustration. "I'm pretty drained. I might be able to help one of them, but I'd be as dead as they are afterwards."

"I'm sure that won't be necessary," Patrick replied, looking at the 'backup crew', which was humiliating the vampires.

Back at Phoenix Force headquarters, Faith pulled the BMW up into the garage, and parked it on Buffy's pot. The BUFFY-1 license plate was a dead giveaway that this was Buffy's car. Stefan, head of the motor pool and mechanical genius, walked up to the couple. 

"Did you have a nice run?" he asked in a slightly German accent.

Faith patted the car's finish affectionately. "Purrs like a cat, growls like a tiger, and runs like a leopard on steroids. We kicked ass."

"Good!" the man said, pleased with himself.

"Anyway, I'm going to the room," Faith said. "Good evening, Stef."

"And to you, Faith," Stefan replied.

Kendra bid her good evening as well, but contrary to her companion she went down to the command center, to check up on things before retiring to the quarters she shared with Faith. 

"How is everything?" the dark-skinned Slayer asked.

"Three-fourths of the Scooby Gang has gone to Italy to bail out Vulture Squad, Ma'am," Patricia reported. "They're humiliating Glory's trap."

Kendra nodded, and grabbed the phone on the officer's desk. She dialed a number inside the complex. "Hello?" Faith's voice asked, curious as to who would be calling at such an hour.

"Do NOT remove your clothes. Come down to command. NOW. We are going to battle."

"Wha-" Faith's voice was cut off when Kendra threw the phone shut. Outwardly, she was cold as ice. Inwardly, she was chuckling, pleased with herself. Faith came bursting through the door not thirty seconds later.

"Where's the apocalypse?" the breathless Slayer asked.

Kendra didn't reply, but grabbed Patricia's microphone instead. "Two more would like to join the outing," Kendra said in the microphone. "Please see if the time is available for teleporta-"

-tion," Kendra finished, seeing herself and Faith standing not for from a combat scene. Both Slayers drew their Slayer swords, and engaged happily. The remaining five vampires were quickly decimated. Llewellyn was holding the last one to the wall, the tip of his sword digging slightly into the creature's neck to hold him.

"Em?" Llewellyn asked, grinning evilly. Buffy smirked at the vampire. She knew what Llewellyn was up to. She didn't stop him. There was no harm in playing a little… it boosted morale. "How are the injured?"

Esmeralda got up from where she had been bending over the two wounded people. Beatrice and Ben opened their eyes, and grunted slightly. They sat up straight. 

"They're just fine," Esmeralda replied, walking up to the captured vampire. 

"Em, if you would do the honors?" Llewellyn asked, still leering at the vampire. The vampire, albeit looking concerned, didn't appear to be too afraid.

"Oh, let me! Let me!" Willow asked. 

"Okay," Llewellyn shrugged. "Will, if you would do the honors?"

Willow smiled, and snapped her fingers. The patches on the right shoulder remained the standard Phoenix Force patch: a black circle with a golden border and a roaring phoenix in the center. But, on the left, a new patch grew. It was square, black in color, and had a dark gray border. In the lower left corner was a dog, howling at the moon in the upper right corner of the patch.

Over the left breast, an ID tag grew in place. Also black, but with a golden rim and two golden letters: SG. Next to those two letters came the name of the team member. 

"The _Scooby Gang_?" the vampire asked, suddenly looking more afraid than concerned. "They sent the _Scooby Gang _after us?"

"Yes," Buffy stated calmly. Vulture Squad had gotten up, and were now located just behind the Scooby Gang members. 

"Actually, we volunteered," Xander added with a lop-sided grin.

"Please…please don't hurt me," the vampire begged. "I'll tell you everything you want to know! Just don't do to me what you did to Spike…"

"Then tell," Llewellyn said. 

"Glory. Glory was behind this," the vampires said, shaking. 

"Tell us something we don't know," Crevan said. "And I see you've heard of my work with Spike."

"A…All of us know," the vampire muttered. "You had him for a week, then released him… as nuts as a basket… please…please, don't hurt me…"

"Why?" Llewellyn asked, the tip of his sword digging slightly deeper into the vampire's skin. Vampire blood started trickling down the blade. Vampire piss stained a pair of pants, and a basement floor. 

"Glory wants the Key! And she thinks it's in Sunnydale, and she's sending some undercover operatives! Demons! Stealthy ones! That's all I know! Honest!" the vampire begged. 

"You wouldn't be lying, would you?" Crevan asked. "My record with Spike needs a challenge…"

The vampire looked as if he wanted _something_ in his bladder, just so he could piss his pants again. "I swear! I swear!" the vampire blubbered. 

Llewellyn shrugged, drew back the blade, and decapitated the vampire in a single stroke.

"By the way, B," Faith said, turning to the blonde Slayer. Faith took out a bundle of cash, counted it, and split it. "Here's your cut, and the keys." Faith held out three thousand dollars and a set of car keys. 

"Cool. Thanks," Buffy answered, accepting the bundle of notes and the keys. "How is my baby?"

Faith smiled. "As I told Stefan, it purrs like a cat, growls like a tiger, and runs like a leopard on steroids."

Kendra wanted to see Buffy's reaction. She really wanted to see Buffy's reaction if she told about the deal earlier… but she also knew that it would destroy her relationship with Faith. And that was something Kendra didn't feel like doing. After all, she _had_ won.

"Good," Buffy said, pocketing the keys and the cash.

"Sir?" Patrick asked, walking up to Llewellyn, who was standing by the little group that consisted of Buffy, Kendra, and Faith. 

"Ah, Patrick!" Llewellyn replied, turning to him. "Is everything alright?"

"Yes, sir. Thanks to you. I don't know if we would've survived otherwise," Patrick replied honestly. "On behalf of myself and Vulture Squad, I'd like to thank you for officially saving our lives."

"I just want to know who sent you here in the first place. There should've been _two_ class-three teams, instead of just one," Llewellyn replied. "But that's for tomorrow."

"It was believed there were only thirty vampires, total," Patrick answered. "In a basement. No sub-basement. They ambushed us. Sir, it was a clear trap."

Llewellyn nodded. "I see… anyway, it's another victory for the good guys." Llewellyn turned to the rest of the Scooby Gang, talking quietly among themselves. "How about we celebrate our reunion, and our victory?" Llewellyn shouted over the group. The Scooby Gang cheered. "You and your team are more than welcome," Llewellyn offered the Vulture Squad leader.

Patrick looked at his team, from seventeen-year-old Sabrina to the rest of his team. Most shrugged, and nodded. 

"Gladly, sir," Patrick told Llewellyn, who smiled.

"Great! Em, Will, Ames, port to Willy's, please?" Llewellyn asked, smiling. The three magic-users looked at one another. Finally, Esmeralda shrugged, and snapped her fingers. The entire group, Vulture Squad and Scooby Gang combined, was ported to Willy's bar in Sunnydale. 

Because of the decimating effect of first the Scooby Gang, and then the entire Phoenix Force, Willy's clientele of vampires and demons had been wiped out. His bar had instead been adopted as official Phoenix Force hang-out bar. Esmeralda had even put in a permanent portal, connecting the Phoenix Gate Room with Willy's bar directly. 

"Willy, you know the drill," Llewellyn said when some people pushed some of the round tables together, and rearranged some chairs, so everyone had a seat. Willy nodded, and held up his thumb. Soon after, everyone at the two tables had to shots of tequila in front of them.

"Are you sure?" Patrick whispered in Sabrina's ear. "You don't have to do this if you don't want to, you know. It's not because everyone else drinks alcohol that you have to as well."

"I know," Sabrina answered. "Don't worry so much! We've got a direct portal back to HQ, so I can go straight to bed when we get home. And besides, it's not every day that a girl gets to enjoy a good night out with the _Scooby Gang_, of all teams!"

Patrick had to agree on this. "It's not everyday that a class-one team gets together. And to join them for an after-combat drink…"

"I think we're about to start," Sabrina interrupted him when Llewellyn stood up, and looked around the assembled group.

"This has become a ritual," he explained to Vulture Squad. "One we hold after each fight." He held up the first shot. "To those we preceded us, and who can no longer join us," he said, slamming down the shot of tequila. 

"May they be happy in the afterlife," the Scooby Gang muttered, draining their first shots as well. Vulture Squad repeated the words, and drained their drinks. Sabrina coughed a little because of the strong drink.

Llewellyn took the second shot. "To victory, no permanent injuries, and dead vampires!" Llewellyn shouted, draining his shot. 

"The best kind," the Scooby Gang repeated exuberantly, draining their shots after Llewellyn. Vulture Squad followed right behind. Llewellyn sat down again, and the party broke loose. Everyone enjoyed themselves, talking amicably amongst the group, be they rescuer or rescued.

It wasn't long before Hugo, known as the biggest booze-gun of the Vulture Squad, got challenged.

"We'll just have to see how big a drinker you are," Crevan told the man. "Up for Gertrude's Booze Challenge?"

_Gertrude,_ the Scooby Gang muttered, a mutter that was taken over by the few other patrons in the bar. Xander started, "Ger-trude. Ger-trude," in a low voice, right fist pounding the table echoing the rhythm. Soon, the entire group had joined in, the rumble rising to a near shout. Hugo had no other choice but to accept. Backing down now would be suicide for his reputation.

"Any other challengers?" Crevan asked. 

"I'll join." Llewellyn said.

Xander snubbed out his cigarette. "Even though my lovely wife is going to kill me, I am going to join, too."

Esmeralda raised on eyebrow. "I won't have to. The Challenge is going to do it for me," the wizardess replied in dry amusement.

"We've got four contestants. Any more brave souls ready to join the damned?" Crevan asked dryly.

"Hell, I enjoy a good challenge," Faith said, jumping up. "Bring it on!"

Kendra shook her head. "You are definitely sleeping on the couch tonight. And you can be assured that you are _so _going to clean up your own mess."

"Hey! I don't get sick!" Faith protested, sitting back down.

"I know that. You know that. They don't," Kendra whispered in Faith's ear. 

Faith buried her face in her hand, threw her free arm around Kendra, and said, almost choking with laughter, "I knew there was a reason why I love you, Sweets. You can be so devious at times."

Kendra just smiled smugly. "Anyway. Five souls are on the Booze-Express line to Hell. Anyone else want to get a ticket?" Crevan asked. When no further volunteers were found, Crevan turned to Willy. "Willy, five shot glasses. _Real_ ones."

Five cups were brought over, and the bartender remained where he was, among the small crowd that had gathered near the table. The Scooby Gang, apparently used to this kind of thing, pushed some more tables together, creating the arena for the physical part of the challenge. 

Esmeralda waved her hand. Ten earthen jugs appeared. "This is how it goes. We fill our shot-cups, drain it at the signal of someone, get up, and run around these tables. No cheating by means of magic, Immortal nature, or any other kind will be tolerated," Crevan said. 

"I'll be starter," Buffy said out loud, and got up.

"What are _those_?" Hugo asked, eyeing the earthwork cup. "This is huge!"

"Two-and-a-half times what you think of as a shot glass, " Llewellyn replied. "This Challenge is nine hundred years old. No _way_ is anyone is lessening it because modern people no longer know how much goes in a shot."

Hugo rubbed his forehead. _What have I gotten myself into?_ he asked himself. The cup was filled to the rim with the contents of the first jug.

"Just a warm-up. Irish Whiskey," Buffy said. "Drink!"

Hugo managed to slam it down at an equal pace with Faith and Xander, while Llewellyn and Crevan were way faster. The two elder Immortals shot up, and started jogging around the table. The two younger Immortals and the mortal got up at around the same time, and Hugo started running to catch up to the two older men, while Xander and Faith just jogged. Hugo didn't know why, until he sat down and noticed that the second round didn't come until everyone was seated once again. _Then why did they slam it down like that?_ He wondered. 

When everyone was seated once again, the cups were filled with the contents from jug two. 

"Really _strong_ Whiskey," Buffy said. "Drink!" the shots disappeared, not seeming to affect Llewellyn or Crevan in the least. Xander wavered a bit, but didn't seem too affected. Faith and Hugo held themselves well, even though they too, began to feel the effects of mixing drinks. First the tequila, then some beer, and now the Challenge.

"Jug three," Buffy said, ceremoniously. She was really getting into her role. "Home brewed booze, straight from Gertrude's still!"

Some of the drink spilt. The wood of the table smoked where it hit. Hugo stared at it, at Buffy, at the others, to make sure whether or not this _acid_ was a joke or not. It appeared not. "Drink!" the order came. Crevan and Llewellyn. No problem. Xander grunted. Faith just made faces. Hugo took a deep breath, and downed. His esophagus seemed on fire, but he kept it in.

Llewellyn and Crevan jogged around the table as if it were a walk in the park. Faith almost joined them. Xander seemed a little tipsy at this point, and so did Hugo. They walked around the table without too much problem, and fell back down in their seats. Hugo wasn't really feeling too hot now. The walking stimulated the digestion, and the liquor was hitting his bloodstream, faster and faster. 

"Jug four," Buffy said. "The worm-killer!" the cups were filled. Hugo stared a little sourly at his cup. So did Xander. Faith too, looked a little apprehensive. And the two older Immortals? They were having a blast, obviously. "Drink!" Buffy ordered. 

Crevan and Llewellyn raised their cups in salute to each other, and downed. The others took smaller gulps. Crevan and Llewellyn had almost completed their round by the time the others had gotten the resolve to get up. 

_The strongest made it to jug seven,_ Buffy's mind recollected from the time Crevan and Llewellyn had told her about the challenge of Old Lady Gertrude. Xander really didn't know which side was right, and which was left. By the time he rounded two corners, he ran straight into some nearby tables. The crowd laughed and cheered, and Esmeralda waved her hand. Her drunk husband disappeared. "Sleep it off," Esmeralda grunted semi-out loud. Faith and Hugo made it, even though not in the best of shape. Both were holding onto the table. 

"Jug five," Buffy announced, looking at the four remaining contenders. Only Crevan and Llewellyn seemed to be in decent shape. Hell, the two old Immortals looked as if they could go the length, and still have room left over. "Innards cleanser," Buffy added the name of the drink. "Drink!"

Again, the salute to each other, and again, the drink disappeared without trouble. Hugo and Faith got up, holding on to the backs of their respective chairs.

"Don't f'l so g'd," Faith rumbled. 

"M n'ther," Hugo grunted. He let go of his support, and waggled to the corner. But, because the table was made up of round tables, Hugo didn't have a corner to hold on to, slipped, and almost fell. He somehow managed to stay on his legs. The crowd gasped and cheered him on. Hugo made it along the long side, and to the second corner. This time, he slipped, and didn't recover. The stagger along the long end had released more alcohol in his bloodstream. There was plenty more booze in his stomach, so it was very likely that he was going to get a lot drunker before sobering up. Hugo fell flat on his stomach, and passed out. Vulture squad was with their fallen member within seconds.

"Hang on, I'll get him home," Esmeralda said, waving her hands. His disappeared. "There. Safely in his bed. Too bad that, by tomorrow, he'll have a hangover the size of Jupiter."

"His own fault," Patrick grunted, sitting down again. The crowd's attention focused back on Faith. 

"Faith? The walk?" Llewellyn asked. 

"Faith?" Buffy added, raising her voice a little. Kendra looked closer at her girlfriend, then burst out laughing.

"She's asleep," the dark-skinned Slayer said, laughing. "She fell asleep!"

The crowd laughed, and Esmeralda ported the Slayer home. To the couch, just like Kendra had requested. Esmeralda, not one to mess in domestic disputes, had done what had been asked of her.

"Jug six. Two contestants left," Buffy announced. "Jug six. The hedgehog! Drink!"

The hedgehog, named after the spiky feeling the drinker got in his throat and stomach, disappeared with a nonchalant ease. By now, the two Immortals seemed to be affected only slightly, as their behavior became loose. 

"Jug seven, the sledgehammer," Buffy announced when the two cups were filled. "Drink!"

Slam. Again, the drink disappeared. Again, the two immortals walked the distance, the sledgehammer not really living up to its reputation.

"Man, after nine hundred years, I think we've gotten too immune against alcohol," Crevan grunted when his cup was filled with the drink from jug eight.

Llewellyn nodded. "Somehow, it doesn't hit as strong as I remember."

"Let's wait for the Widow Maker," Crevan replied, raising his cup per Buffy's order.

"Let's," Llewellyn answered, laughing as he too, raising his cup. The two Immortals slammed drink eight, The Anvil, down. Both coughed and protested.

"Jeezes," Llewellyn grunted when he got up, and froze for just a second, to gain his balance. "That one hit just as hard as it did nine hundred years ago."

"Good to know that old values never change," Crevan grunted as he too, gained his sense of balance. The two Immortals started walking, and fell into their seats after they completed the round. 

"Jug nine!" Buffy shouted. "The one and only Widow Maker!" Jug nine filled the cups. The crowd hushed, everyone holding their breath to see what would happen. Some had already seen the Immortals go the distance, but most had only heard of this challenge by reputation.

"To your health," Llewellyn grunted, raising his cup.

"And to yours, old man," Crevan returned. The two slammed the drink down. It didn't burn. It went down as if it were water. The two got up, and started walking. And then, the effects became clear. As soon as they started walking, the alcohol was absorbed into their bloodstream. They started waggling from left to right, laughing merrily as they did so. They fell into their seats, both looking at their cups as if there were half a dozen floating around, and they were judging which one to take without making a fool of themselves.

"The last jug!" Buffy shouted. "Devil's Milk! The infamous Devil's Milk! And yes, it burns straight through wood! Gentlemen! Drink!"

Crevan and Llewellyn looked at the blonde Slayer with a look of 'what-are-you-talking-about' on their faces. Something seemed to register, and they took the cups, raised them, and slammed them down. Their faces twisted for a moment. Then, they got up, and started waggling. 

_Will they sing? Oh, God, please, anything but the drinking songs of long-past,_ Buffy begged. Llewellyn threw his arm around Crevan, who enthusiastically returned the gesture. They took a deep breath. Crevan burst out in the old-London dialect. Llewellyn laughed, and joined in with ancient Celtic.

Buffy groaned. The two Immortals waggled around the table, plumped down in their seats, and continued to sing. The crowd laughed, and dispersed. Some very brave individuals even dared to start singing themselves. Soon, Willy's bar turned into an impromptu karaoke bar for drinking songs, everyone who had drunk _something_ joining in for the fun of it. 

A group of about thirty people were standing closely together, talking nervously to one another. All of them were wearing an ID tag, which appeared to be just their picture, and their name, on a black background. On closer inspection, the tag was holographic, and showed a roaring Phoenix in the background when tilted to the right angle. 

All the people there were initiates, new recruits. All of them had come in contact with a vampire or demon, and all of them had either suffered injuries, or had been cast out of society because of what they had seen. A Phoenix Force recruiting officer had visited them, and had left them a book, giving as much information as could be released into the general public concerning vampires, demons, Immortals, and Slayers, among other things.

Everyone here had called back, saying they were interested… and they had received a date and time. So, here the group was. Well, actually, the group hadn't gathered. They had just shown up at a rendezvous site, whether it be the Eiffel Tower, or the Wailing Wall, and transported here. When they had gotten here, and met each other for the first time, they had also noted the ID tags. Everyone had stuck together, still too confused about the magic transport to go out exploring.

Llewellyn walked up to them, displaying a relaxed smile. He was dressed in a casual pair of blue jeans, a black t-shirt, and a black vest, which was unzipped. 

"You must be the new initiates," Llewellyn said when he reached them. 

"Yes, sir," a young man of around 25 said. "And you must be our guide."

"That's me," Llewellyn answered, throwing a look at the ID tag. Jaron Yihtzak. Llewellyn's mind connected the name to the Israeli Special Forces, from which he had been recruited, after seeing a vampire. The young man had taken the beast on, and had sustained serious injuries. The nearby team, which had been the Utahraptor Horde, had dispatched their magic-user to help the dying young man. Llewellyn smiled at the young man. _Dovron did a nice job healing him. There's not a mark on him._ "Anyway, is everybody ready?"

The group nodded. "Great! So, let's start with the beginning. You're all familiar with the basics about vampires, demons, and the other mythical creatures, correct?" Llewellyn asked. 

The group nodded, and Jaron took it on himself to be spokesman. "We all read the book our recruiters left us," he answered respectfully, still trying to find out who their guide was.

"Great. Good work so far," Llewellyn complimented. "Come on, let's start this tour with the beginning of Phoenix Force. But, before we begin, I want all of you to know that magic is already working on you."

The group muttered unsurely, not knowing what to make of this. "You see, in Phoenix Force, we speak Latin. This organization is international, and as such, there are a lot of different languages present. We decided that one language was needed, and, out of respect, it shouldn't be a language that's already in use, as not to put one group over another. We decided on Latin," Llewellyn explained. 

"And what does this have to do with us being under influence of magic?" Jaron asked, the respect almost-gone from his tone. His training had been too intense to let it go completely.

"Because you are all from different countries, and speak different languages, our strongest magic-user had put a translation spell on you. It allows you to talk to one another in your native language, and for you to understand me. But, such a spell is only temporary, and keeping it up constantly for a couple thousand people would be too big of a strain," Llewellyn replied. The group relaxed. "Come on, let's get on with the tour." 

The group followed Llewellyn, through the security gates, until they halted on top of a hill. 

"This is the place where it all began," Llewellyn started his speech. "Before Phoenix Force, there was a group of young people, who called themselves the Scooby Gang."

Some of the people, who had heard of the Scooby-Do show, snickered slightly. Llewellyn continued, as if he hadn't noticed it. "This group had been around for a couple of years before Phoenix Force. At the time they decided to build Phoenix Force, however, the group had been growing steadily, and consisted out of two old Immortals, an Immortal wizardess, two Immortal sorceresses, an Immortal wild-mage," some of the group gasped, obviously familiar with the term wild-mage, "an Immortal watcher, and two Immortal Slayers." The group stared at Llewellyn with open mouths. 

"Because of what they perceived as a global threat, these people knew that there were not enough of them to help all of humanity. Thus, Phoenix Force was created. Using all the contacts, pull, and money two ancient Immortals could throw into play; the group established the organization as it stands today, and it's been growing ever since. A couple of months after establishing Phoenix Force, a third Slayer joined. She was placed under a heavy spell, requiring the power of all three magic-users of the Scooby Gang. This third Slayer was cursed into Immortality."

"That's a lot of skill," a woman named Claudette said. "So, why are we needed?" Llewellyn could see that the group was nodding. It was a standard question, one that popped up on almost every tour.

"Because vampires are very wide-spread," Llewellyn answered. "We need all the people we can get. Of course, not everybody is going into combat. Support people are just as important. People to take care of the motor pool. People to maintain communications, or to keep the place tidy. All kinds of people, and everyone is just as important as those who fight in the front lines."

The group nodded. Apparently, the answer sufficed. "Come. Let's go inside," Llewellyn said, making an arm-motion back to the complex. 

"Lobby," Llewellyn said when the entire group had filed though the front door into a large room, completely adorned with marble floors and walls. "The three upper floors, the ones above ground, house some divisions of the major companies involved with this project. People like Quantum Innovations, among others. The interesting stuff happens under ground."

After allowing the group to take in the spacious lobby, Llewellyn guided them to one of the three elevators located nearby. He pulled a card through a reader, and the elevator opened almost immediately. The group filed in. To their surprise, the elevator just descended one level, before opening. 

"Security level," Llewellyn explained. "All elevators must stop at this level." The room they were in was darkly illuminated, providing a ghostly mix of browns and blacks. A single desk was visible, with two guards sitting behind it. Nobody there doubted that there were at least a dozen guards located just outside the radius of the light. Llewellyn proceeded to take his ID card.

"We know you by know, Mr. Morgan," the left guard said, chuckling. 

The right guard leaned in, and whispered, "Have you told them who you are yet?"

"Not yet," Llewellyn replied in an equal whisper. "There doesn't seem to be anyone in need of a good taking-down."

The two guards nodded, while the left one pressed a button. "The elevator will be here shortly."

"Thanks," Llewellyn replied, and returned to his group. "The elevator will be here shortly. Now, allow me to tell you a little about our security measures. This building is rumored to have enough magical defenses against evil of all sorts of kinds to give Satan a run for his money."

The people shuffled uncomfortably. "This isn't true," Llewellyn continued. The people relaxed slightly. "It has enough magical defenses to _stop_ Satan. Nothing of evil can set foot in here. It's holy ground, blessed by about any religion we could find: Catholic, Protestant, Anglican, Jewish, Hinduism, and so forth. Now, why the added security measures? Well, those are to prohibit people from just walking in here. We need to keep the normal people out of here, so our group remains unknown. Ah, the lift."

The doors slid open soundlessly, and the people filed in. The edges of the doors glowed while they passed, the people shied away from it.

"Don't worry, that's just a scanner-spell. It determines whether or not you're a shape-shifter, or using a glamour spell to disguise our true form."

"What happens if it detects tampering?" Jaron asked.

"You don't want to know," Llewellyn answered, deadly serious. "Floors minus one to minus ten are the so-called people zones," Llewellyn continued while the elevator descended. "They contain residencies, educational facilities for our operatives, relaxation possibilities, and so on. In short, everything someone needs to live comfortably. We're completely self-sufficient. In time of crisis, the top lifts are deactivated, and we can survive on our own for years, if we have to."

"But…Food? Water? Electricity? Heat?" Jaron asked, staring shocked at Llewellyn. Everyone else was shocked speechless.

"We are running two nuclear reactors on floor minus sixteen to provide electricity and heating. It's using the water from an underground stream as cooling. That same stream provides drinking water. And don't worry; the water is safe to drink. Now, as to food, we have a policy. Every group that goes out needs a magic-user. And magic-users are so useful people… they can summon up just about anything, food included. And believe me, a magically created steak has more nutritional value than a natural one."

"I believe you," Jaron whispered, when the doors slid open. 

"Minus fifteen," Llewellyn said. "Command an control centers. Please, stay in single file behind me. We have operations running at all times, and we don't want to disturb anything."

The people nodded, and followed Llewellyn. "Main command," Llewellyn whispered, showing the people into the back of the room. At the front were a couple of huge screens, with all kinds of readouts. In front of it were a couple dozen people seated in desks that seemed to have run away from NASA's command center. Every station had its own monitor, apparently giving information about other missions, either in progress or in the process of being readied.

After witnessing the communications between the command center and the various teams all over the planet, someone had to ask the question, and it was Gillian Michaels, a woman in her mid-thirties, who had been recruited from the NSA.

"Doesn't anyone intercept your communications?"

Llewellyn smiled. "They'll have a tough time breaking our scrambling. That is, if they can get the scrambled signal in the first place." Seeing that Patricia was currently just monitoring the situation in Italy, to see if everything remained clear, he bent over to her. "Could you pop up the Echelon program for a second?"

"Of course, sir," Patricia replied, and pressed a key combo on her Dvorak-keyboard. One of Willow's contributions, the Dvorak-keyboard had a far easier layout than the standard QWERTY or AZERTY layouts. As such, speeds increased dramatically, while cutting learning cures down to 10% that of the standard layouts.

The main screen changed views, showing the planet and thirteen satellites in its orbit. Various lines connected the satellites to ground stations, labeled in a different color. The grand stations in turn were connected to one another in an intricate network, with yet another color.

Gillian's mouth hit the ground. "Is that what I think it is?"

"The Echelon system. Capable of intercepting every email, every cell-phone transmission, every fax, and most of telephone-based communications in the world," Llewellyn replied, nodding. 

"You have _access_ to Echelon?" Gillian asked, still flabbergasted. "I never actually saw it… security was very tight. Only few had access. And here, it's out in the open? With a keystroke?"

"Well, we didn't actually _get_ access. More like we took it," Llewellyn answered. 

"You _hacked_ Echelon? That's impossible! Those encryptions are state-of-the-art! It would take at least ten thousand years to brute-force the encryption!" 

"With current technology," Llewellyn answered. "With _your_ current technology, that is. Our computers use a quantum-processor array, capable of executing 10 QUIPS."

"What does that mean?" Gillian asked. 

"QUIPS. _Quadrillion Instructions Per Second_. Current computer processors you know run around fifteen hundred MIPS. Million Instructions Per Second. Of course, we've got problems supplying the processor with data when it's running that fast… so Quantum Innovations designed a broadband-memory-connection, able to supply it with data at speeds up to 55 Gigabits per second. But all that's for those of us who speak computer."

The group chuckled slightly.

"So, what does all of this mean? In terms all of us understand?" Jaron asked. "I've never heard of Echelon, and computers aren't my strong point."

"This computer can break any type of encryption within minutes. The longest we had to wait was 12 minutes, and that was to get the nuclear launch codes… just a test, to see if it could be done! Don't worry!" Llewellyn added, when the people in the group started looking concerned. "And basically, Echelon can do what I told earlier. It can intercept emails, faxes, cell-phone conversations, and most telephone conversations. Not to mention the fact that it can triangulate both the source and receiver. But, in our case, we use it to disguise our communications as background noise from outer space. No one knows of our communications."

"I'm getting a headache," Gillian muttered, rubbing her head. "So, let me get this straight. You are using a multi-million dollar space-bound satellite system as a firewall?"

"Yes," Llewellyn answered, grinning slightly. The group stared at him. Grinning wider, he added impishly, "Ain't it cool?"

The group chuckled. "Anyway, let's get on with the tour. Patricia, thanks for the pop-up."

"No problem, sir," Patricia said, tapping her keyboard. The screen returned to its previous state. The group filed out after Llewellyn. 

"What behind this door?" Jaron asked, pointing to a heavy-duty metal door with strange symbols engraved in it.

"Behind that door lies the Key," Llewellyn answered. "Unless you want to hear the long version, it's basically something we need to keep out of the hands of the bad guys."

"Why? What does it open?" Gillian asked, curious about what other secrets these people had.

Rubbing the bridge of his nose, Llewellyn thought for a few seconds before replying, as if rattling text out of a book, "We are currently facing a great evil. Known as Glorificus, or Glory, this Hell God wants to get the Key to open the portals between our realm, Earth, and her home-realm, Hell. If Glorificus were to get her hands on this Key, she would open the portals, smashing our two realities together. Earth and Hell would become one… and believe me, Earth would become Hell. 

"We got the Key in our possession when the monks who had been its guardians for centuries were faced with annihilation at the hands of Glory… so the monks tried to give the Key a human appearance, and enter it into our lives, adapting our memories and emotions to accept the Key as one of us, so we would protect it. Now, fact is, this building, and the homes of those people who chose not to live on base, have been protected by the highest-class magical shields and wards we could get into the structures. The monks' spell backfired; memories remained unaltered, the Key didn't get a human appearance, and it returned to their monastery.

"Esmeralda, the wizardess of the Scooby Gang, got alerted due to the spell the monks tried to use. She scanned the area of origin of the spell, and found what the monks had been trying to do. She took action, and ported the Key, and the remaining monks, here. They've been guarding the Key in this facility ever since. Behind this door is the facility where the monks guard the Key. I can't show it to you. Access is restricted to full members of Phoenix Force."

"We understand," Jaron replied. "If it's the only thing standing between us a Hell on Earth, I'm sure we can all understand the need for security measures."

Llewellyn dipped his head in gratitude. "Now, let me show you how the daily life of Phoenix Force goes. There are always people who are up and about, due to time-shifts. We always try to enter in broad daylight, an advantage we have over the vampires. But, this facility is built in one time-zone, which it considers its home." The people grunted at Llewellyn's avoidance of saying _which_ time-zone. "So, during the daytime of our zone, lessons are given by whoever feels capable of giving one. They're non-mandatory. After you finish your training, all classes are optional. If you feel like doing nothing but eat, drink, sleep, and watch TV while you're off-duty, you're free to do so. Only rule is to make sure your physical shape doesn't suffer from it, so you can do your duties to the best of your abilities at all times."

The group followed Llewellyn into a lift, which took them to minus thirteen. He led them into a long corridor. "This class just started today," Llewellyn whispered, right outside one door. "It's taught by a friend of mine. 'The Truth About Ancient Relics, Artifacts, And Buildings."

He quietly opened the door, and the group filed in. "Don't mind us, just a tour," Llewellyn told the person in the front of the class, which was Willow. 

"Oh. Okay," Willow said, throwing a quick look at her lesson plan. "So. As I was saying, Stonehenge was built in different phases, by Druidic magic-users. Now, those ancient magic-users didn't really know how to summon stuff, so they looked around, and had their stones and such quarried, before transporting them magically over land, before being erected, also with the use of magic. That's why modern archeologists have so many problems with discovering how it was built.

"I have an overview of the different phases," Willow said, starting to scribble on the blackboard.

Llewellyn pushed a finger to his mouth, and motioned for the door. The group left quietly. Before leaving, Llewellyn winked at Willow, and stuck his thumb up in the air. The redhead smiled, and resumed her class. 

"Not all classes are taught in a classroom. This was an example of the many interesting little facts you can pick up here. Literally everything is taught by someone at some time. We've got cooking classes, courses in origami, to courses in being a car mechanic, and how to set up a car for more power. If you're interested, and if I'm not mistaken, I think there's a course of multi-defense going on a level up. That one's physical, teaching a person how to defend against multiple opponents. Swords only."

Jaron looked around, found most nodding, and turned back to Llewellyn. "Sure."

Llewellyn smiled. "Great. This way." He showed them to the elevator, which took them a level up, and he once more guided them through a hallway. They stopped in front of a large glass window in the wall, showing a large room on the other side. About thirty men and women had gathered. Three women were at the front, demonstrating a certain technique, after which they split up the group into smaller groups, which could practice the technique among themselves. One thing the tour group noticed was the use of live swords. No wooden training swords. Real ones. The three teachers walked around, offering a helping hand here and there.

"All kinds of things are taught," Llewellyn replied, gazing lovingly at the blonde teacher. "If you're interested in martial arts, you'll find that almost every style has at least a couple of adepts in our ranks."

The group inside paused, and Llewellyn took advantage of the situation to sneak himself and his group inside.

Buffy walked over to the Llewellyn and his tour group. "So, what'd ya think?" she asked. 

"That you're doing just fine, Love," Llewellyn answered. He turned to his group. "Everyone, meet my wife, Buffy. She also happens to be a Slayer."

Some of the group gasped, but most nodded in greeting. The two others came over as well. 

"Hey, Lew!" Faith greeted.

"Everyone, Faith and Kendra, the two others in our three-Slayer team," Llewellyn introduced after greeting Faith and Kendra.

"So, showing our new recruits what things are like in our merry band huh?" Faith asked.

Llewellyn's arrival hadn't gone unnoticed to the rest of the class, and thee group had been chatting quietly among themselves. Patrick, who had been among the group, approached the small group consisting of Llewellyn, the tour group, and the three Slayers.

"Sir," the spokesman said, snapping a salute. Llewellyn returned it, greeting Patrick by name.

"Sir, the group would like to officially request a demonstration," Patrick asked. 

"What? We're not good enough?" Buffy asked, sounding almost-offended.

"Excuse me, Ma'am. Allow me to rephrase that. The group would like to request a demonstration of Llewellyn against our most esteemed teachers."

Immediately, the group Llewellyn was with started shifting uncomfortably. _This guy is going to get killed! THREE Slayers?_ At the same time, Buffy, Kendra, and Faith leered at Llewellyn. 

"Sorry. I'm not dressed for the occasion," Llewellyn replied, eyeing the suit he was wearing. Shirt, tie, vest, pants.

Buffy walked over to him, smiling. Llewellyn knew she had something up her sleeve. She grabbed his around the neck, pulling him in for a passionate kiss. When he leaned in, she unwrapped her arms from behind his neck. The next moment, his shirt, tie, and vest landed on the floor, ripped off. 

Smiling smugly, Buffy stepped back to admire her handiwork. "There. Instant battle dress."

The class had stepped back, standing along the edges of the room. "And what about my sword?" Llewellyn asked, raising an eyebrow. The tour group stared at Llewellyn, whom they still thought was nothing more than an ordinary man, probably not even on combat-duty, stuck on giving tours to new initiates. 

Llewellyn heard a cell phone close. Kendra's.

"Wait for one minute, Llewellyn," the dark-skinned Slayer replied.

"Okay," Llewellyn said, unsure. He turned to his tour group. "Anyone has a vest I can borrow? I am feeling like getting out of here."

When Jaron and a couple of the men shot out of their jackets, the three slayers grabbed Llewellyn, and hauled him into the center of the room. The men hurriedly put their jackets back on. None of them felt like rescuing the man from the three Slayers. Besides, these people probably knew what they were doing. They wouldn't kill him… just hurt him a little.

Exactly one minute after Kendra had terminated her call, Crevan barged in, and threw a sword to Llewellyn, who caught it. "Is _everyone_ in on this?" Llewellyn asked, strapping the sword around his hips. 

"Yep," Crevan replied, smirking. He joined the class along the side of the room. 

"Group, meet Crevan. My best friend. The kind of friends that make enemies a luxury," Llewellyn introduced. Crevan shrugged, and smirked at the group. The tour group chose not to respond too enthusiastically. 

"Anyway," Buffy said, drawing her Slayer Sword, and standing in front of Llewellyn. 

"Yeah," Faith said, drawing her own Slayer sword, and standing a little behind his left shoulder. Kendra did the same thing to his right side. It made it so that Llewellyn couldn't see all three of his attackers at the same time. 

He stood erect, not twitching a single muscle. His eyes closed. 

_What is he doing?_ Jaron's mind barked. 

"Okay, teach. Payback time," Faith said, smiling widely. 

_Teach?_ Jaron asked, eyes wide.

Faith charged at the exact same time Kendra did. Llewellyn's reacting was lighting-fast. He dodged Kendra's slash, blocked Faith's attack, and kicked out at Kendra. His foot hit her side, and the dark-skinned Slayer retaliated. Llewellyn dodged backwards, avoiding the two attacks. The grip on the sword changed, so Llewellyn was holding it underhand, the blade extended alongside his arm. Using the speed of his arms, the sword started flying in the figure eight, both Slayers for the moment seeming to be brought to a standstill by Llewellyn.

_That's impossible! Nobody is that fast! I can't see more than a blur!_ Jaron thought.

Buffy was still standing in front of Llewellyn, watching him. Everyone waited for her to make her move. Meanwhile, Llewellyn blocked Kendra's attack with the sword in his right hand, and he knocked Faith's blade upwards with his left wrist, hitting on the flat side of the blade. The position was uncomfortable. He had to rely on his sixth sense, yet Llewellyn knew that it would be possible for his body to keep this level up for some time. 

He took another couple of steps back. The two Slayers were now in front of him. That would go easier, and Llewellyn's breathing normalized now that his mind started to get a grasp on the situation. His eyes remained closed. He dodged under Faith horizontal slash, put his hand on the floor, and kicked upwards with all the strength his leg and arm could give him. he connected with Kendra's stomach dead-on. The dark-skinned Slayer was lifted off the floor, and crashed into the wall behind her. 

She sunk to the floor. Faith, outraged, shouted at Llewellyn, and started hacking and slashing at him. He blocked her strikes without too much effort. One Slayer he could handle in his sleep. Buffy saw his defenses relaxing. She found her opening, and charged. Now dealing with two Slayers once again, Llewellyn's speed picked up again, and he brought the two charging girls to a standstill. The sword still extended along his arm, Llewellyn blocked a downward strike from Buffy. Faith charged horizontally. 

Llewellyn jumped up, pushing Buffy's blade upwards with him. In mid air, he started tilting sideways, until his head was pointing towards the floor. The rotation stopped, and Faith's blade passed under him. Both Slayers prepared to hit him the moment he came down. Then, he started spiraling along his length axis, both his legs extended as if they were part of a helicopter rotor. Buffy ducked, her advantage in Capoeira clearly showing. It connected to Faith. The slayer was thrown backwards, blood pouring form her nose.

Kendra had by now gotten up, and charged. Faith, ignoring the pain after she had wiped the blood, charged as well. Now faced with three Slayers, Llewellyn found himself out of hands. One hand was holding a sword, one hand was doing its best to ward off the attacks of Buffy. He needed a third hand to keep faith occupied. He couldn't keep dodging… these three Slayers had been taught by him to fight as one! _A group is never as strong as the individual. Yeah, right! They never knew these three! _Llewellyn would have thought, if he had time to think. Thinking took time, and time was a commodity he didn't have. 

It was a beautiful dance these three executed. Llewellyn's impassive defense; Kendra's methodical and calculating style; Faith's emotional one; and Buffy's very technically skilled style. Buffy was the best of the three, and it showed clearly. Her three years with Llewellyn hadn't been wasted. Buffy had found an appetite for learning new ways of fighting, and new ways of looking at fighting.

It only took one slip-up, and Llewellyn's defense was breached. Faith's sword drove itself in his side. The sudden penetration made his defenses waver for just a few hundredths of a second. Not enough for any normal human, vampire or lower-class demon to detect. But enough for three highly trained and well-motivated Slayers. Buffy avoided the hand, bleeding from sword-cuts, and drove straight into his shoulder. Kendra went for a thrust, too slow for normal combat, but well suited for open defenses. Her sword went through his body, the tip showing on the other side of his torso.

Since the situation had presented itself fast, none of the three slayers had been able to put a lot of strength behind their attacks. A good thing, since Faith's horizontal slash would have cut him in two, Buffy's attack would have taken off his shoulder, and Kendra's… well, Kendra's attack would have remained the same.

Llewellyn's eyes shot open, and a feral scowl made its way onto his face. He twisted, ripping the three swords from their bearers' hands. His free hand drew Kendra's sword, ripped it out, and threw it away. The same thing happened to Buffy's blade embedded into his shoulder. The wounds closed almost immediately. Llewellyn then took Faith's blade. 

And kept it. Buffy and Kendra stared at the bloodied swords they were holding, then at Faith, disarmed, and finally, they look at Llewellyn, smiling victoriously, and holding two swords. The grip changed. Both swords were held reversed. Llewellyn's legs spread slightly, his body twisted sideways, and the two swords were held up in an intricate pattern. 

After living with him for three years, Buffy could recognize most of Llewellyn's stances. And she didn't like the one she was seeing now. "Shit! Kendra! Sword!" Buffy shouted, extending her free hand. Kendra stared at Llewellyn. 

Llewellyn charged, his body rotating as if caught in a tornado. The two swords were almost invisible because of the speed when his tornadoing body raced closer to the three Slayers. 

"Kendra!" Buffy shouted, ducking, and rolling sideways towards the dark-skinned Slayer. "Give me your sword, or we're going to lose!"

Kendra's grip weakened, and Buffy gripped the sword. Reversed. 

Llewellyn broke off, turning to look into the direction of which he had come. He got back into his stance. Buffy calmly walked directly in front of him. 

"Double Dragon Fury, Sword Dance," Buffy said, identifying the stance, and dropping into a similar stance. 

"Very good," Llewellyn said, smiling slightly, and dipping his head. "Let's see if you can do it as well."

Buffy just smiled, and launched. Llewellyn launched virtually at the same time, reacting almost instantaneously. The two tornadoing bodies stopped mid-way, the swords and sword-arms blurring with speed. At least fifteen seconds they remained that way, neither gaining any advantage. Then, Buffy started to drive him back, her Slayer strength and speed really coming into play with the fast and ferocious sword dance. 

Or so she thought. Llewellyn wanted to smile. She was falling into his trap! Allowing her to drive him to the wall, he closed his eyes once more, allowing his mind to reach out through the room. The people behind him made way. The wall approached. Silently, he counted. _Now._ He defended one last time, warding off her two swords, turned, and ran to the wall. 

Buffy, losing her counterweight, rushed forward. Llewellyn ran up the wall, then pulled in his legs, and started rolling backwards, rolled up into a ball. The right time, he extended his legs, hitting Buffy in the back of her head, smashing her into the wall. He landed on the floor, and threw Faith's sword straight behind him. The sword penetrated Buffy's heart neatly. The next moment, he was kneeling next to her, had withdrawn the bloodied sword, and charged the two remaining Slayers. Kendra and Faith, both disarmed, looked at one another. 

A similar look crossed their face. They raised their hands. "Laxemus!" _We give up!_

Llewellyn stopped his assault, and handed Faith her sword. He then turned back, and walked to Buffy, whose wound had healed, and now sputtered out a cry when she awoke. 

"I fell for it!" she grunted.

"So did many others, My Love," Llewellyn replied. "Don't worry about it. So, how are you feeling?"

"Like someone ran me through with a sword," Buffy answered with a small grin, while fingering the hole in her shirt. 

"I'm sorry. Guess I got carried away a little," Llewellyn apologized. Buffy reached up, and kissed him. 

"We pushed you into this," she whispered after breaking the kiss. Looking over his shoulder, she saw his tour group. "Maybe you should get back to your initiates… They're looking kinda worried."

Llewellyn looked over his shoulder, and nodded. "You're right My Love," he whispered, and got up to walk towards the group 

"Just _who_ the _fuck_ are you?" Gillian barked. 

"Those were Slayers!" another member shouted. 

"Yeah!" a third added in. "Only Slayers can move that fast! And you faced three of them, and came out on top!"

Jaron just nodded, agreeing to the questions, and not really knowing what to think of the little display.

"Very well," Llewellyn said. With a formal bow, he said, "I am Llewellyn Morgan, Commander-in chief of Phoenix Force. I am one thousand seven-hundred and twenty-nine years of age, and I have spent most of that tome training to fight, as well as fighting, the forces of evil. I have also trained twenty-five mortal Slayers, as well the three Immortal Slayers gathered in this room."

"Jeezes!" Gillian breathed.

"D…d…Dominus Necarum!" an eighteen-year-old brunette whispered. "You…you're D…D…Dominus Necarum!"

Llewellyn sighed. "You wouldn't believe how much I hate that name," he said. "But, as an explanation, it's a name given to me by the forces of evil. Yes, I am the Slayer's Master."

The group turned towards the brunette. "I…eh…I heard the name… and I checked up on it…" she stammered. When she saw that Llewellyn didn't mind her telling, she took a breath, and drew strength from it. "Basically, some vampires gave him that name, because he always happened to train the best and brightest among the Slayers. The most successful Slayers of the last fifteen hundred years were trained by him."

"And you know this how?" Gillian asked. 

"I was a Watcher-in-training," the brunette replied. "But then I found out just how much the watchers were holding back, and I did my best to contact those people that actually did something. And here I am. I found things out because I have this thing for old books… I read most of the Watcher diaries, and I have a near-photographic memory. It's not perfect, but it gets the job done."

"No kidding," Gillian muttered. 

"You have an interesting group here, Mr. Morgan. Or, should we call you 'sir'?" Jaron asked.

"I insist on first-name basis when not on duty. And, since I am the only one on duty here, just call me 'Lew', or 'Llewellyn'. Whatever suits you best."

The group relaxed slightly. "Anyway, we should get going. I have to show you how things happen on missions," Llewellyn added, putting on a jacket Buffy pulled from somewhere. Jaron guessed that this sort of demonstration happened quite regularly, if the availability of spare clothes was any indication.

"Lew, a question?" Jaron asked when the entire group had filed into an elevator, which was descending towards flour minus fourteen.

"Go ahead. Never be afraid to ask, only be afraid of the answer," Llewellyn joked. "Anyway, flour fourteen houses the ready-rooms, planning rooms, dressing rooms, and the Gate Room. All of which I will show you, of course."

"That Sword Dance. If it's so powerful, why am I not seeing more people train with two swords?" Jaron asked.

"Intelligent question. The reason is simple. The Double Dragon Sword Dance is a very difficult technique to master, and it's main focus is the attack. There is very little defense in it, and as such, it is very limited. In one-on-one, it's extremely powerful, using the principle of 'the best defense is a strong offense'. You saw me and Buffy… we came to a complete stop, our attacks canceling each other out. Now, when faced with multiple opponents, the Sword Dance loses its efficiency, since the person who uses it has to shift constantly between multiple targets. You grow too tired too soon, not to mention the fact that you're totally defenseless when engaging one target. A technique like the whirlwind, for instance, is a lot better when faced with multiple targets." When he saw Jaron and some others try and grasp all the data, Llewellyn added, "Don't worry. All of this will be covered in your initiation training."

The group breathed a sigh of relief, and Llewellyn opened the door next to which they had been holding during his explanation. "This is a ready room. In here, individual teams can gather, either in preparation of a fight, or be together to relax after one. Although, after a fight, most prefer to use Willy's, Phoenix Force's unofficial bar."

The group chuckled while they looked around a small lounge, complete with TV set, stereo, a small bar, and some easily movable couches. Llewellyn guided them out, and showed them to a room not far away. 

"This is a planning room," Llewellyn stated superfluously. The room held lots of charts and maps, with lines in various colors being drawn on them with chalk, making them easily removable. "This happens to be a planned mission of the Utahraptor Horde, a raid on a demon's nest in Moscow."

The group stood next to Llewellyn, and they bent over the table containing the map in question.

"This is the surrounding area," Llewellyn explained, holding out one map. "Since they have a sorcerer, they'll be porting in directly. The surrounding area has been marked only slightly. Now, this is the inside." He held out a schematic to a house. "Ground floor. Upper floor. Basement. Sub-basement."

"I've heard that name before," Jaron muttered. "Utahraptor Horde."

"You should. Dovron, their magic-user, is the one who healed you," Llewellyn replied, smiling slightly. 

"I need to thank them, next time I run into them," Jaron muttered. 

"I'm sure you'll have the chance," Llewellyn answered. "Next stop, dressing room."

Llewellyn guided his group to the dressing room. "Standard policy. Each team has its own dressing room."

"And when you are out of spare rooms?" Jaron asked. "And what if there is a woman on the team?"

"This building is magical," Llewellyn said. "Anything's possible. We won't run out of room soon. And the dressing rooms are co-ed. It forms team-spirit."

Some of the group looked uncomfortable 

"Don't worry about being shy. The first time you're going into battle, you'll be glad you have your teammates there to support you," Llewellyn answered their thoughts. "Since you'll be put in with experienced teams, they'll be there to support you through it. After all, they had to learn as well, and know what it's like."

The group relaxed only marginally. Llewellyn guided them out of the room. "This is the Gate Room. Since only the higher-level teams have a magic-user powerful enough to port directly, the level-three teams use this room. Our wizardess has established a whole network of permanent gateways, leading all over the globe. They all connect here." Llewellyn pushed open the door, and led the group into a large room, the three walls covered with circular gateways.

"They're only visible from this end. The other end is totally invisible, and requires an incantation to open. You see those name tags? That's where that portal leads. The rest of the journey is then done by vehicle. At least, that was the theory when we created this room. In reality, there is always some magic-user who doesn't have anything else to do, and who's willing to port a team back and forth. This room is used only rarely."

"What's all this stuff about Level-three teams? What are the other classes? And how do you become a level-two team?" Gillian asked. 

"I'm glad you asked," Llewellyn replied. "You see, a level-three team consists out of anything from five to ten members, at least one of which is a magic-user. They're the ones going after the small to medium-sized vampire concentrations, with maybe a demon here and there. If the group's too big, two or more level-three teams are deployed together. 

"A level-two team has a higher-grade magic-user, at least a sorceress, and they usually have one or two Immortals as well. Those teams go after the demon concentrations. Teams like the Utahraptor Horde, for instance, are level-two teams. And then… then there are the level-one teams. We only have two of them. The Scooby Gang, and Team Dragon Wing. They go after the _really_ big shit. Large concentrations of demons and vampires. Cataclysmic stuff, ready to take out the world. All level-one members are Immortal. They have absolute priority over the others because of the severity of their cases. 

"Because of the relative rarity of the level-one missions, level-one team members usually go out with one or two level-two teams. Just something to keep in shape. Now, everyone starts out in a level-three team. You are evaluated on a personal level, as well as your skills in working in a team. That's how you could be considered for promotion to a level-two team. Level-one… you need to be Immortal. First rule. Second rule, you need to be very, _very_ skilled, or at least have some kind of magical backup."

"Like magical weapons?" Jaron asked. 

Llewellyn shook his head resolutely. "Like being a magic-user. And no magical weapons are allowed for fighting purposes. Magical weapons create a dependability. You start to rely on the weapon instead of yourself, and that's dangerous. We have had to go up against dark magic-users who were able to cast a magic-nullification field. All magical weapons either freeze in mid-air, or they permanently lose their magical properties when inside such a field, thus making them useless. The shock of such a thing happening is enough for anyone to slip a hit in, and kill you. As such, magical weapons are prohibited. They're considered cheating by our members for one thing, and they can cost you your life for a second thing."

"I understand," Jaron replied. "And how about payment? Don't think I'm here for the money, or anything, but a person has to live off something…"

"Everyone connected to Phoenix Force, be they members, or close family members like wives and children, have an apartment inside the building. They are provided with free food, drink, shelter, heating, and so on. In addition to that, the actual members are paid $100,000 a year, no difference be they support or combat. Everyone is equal, and everyone is paid equally."

"Of course. That sounds fair," Jaron said, nodded. The others nodded as well, some of them more reluctantly than others. 

Llewellyn brought them back to the main lobby. "Anyway, this is the end of our tour. Hope you all found it informative?"

The group nodded, in various levels of enthusiasm. "So, this is where I pose the question: will you, or will you not, join us? Or, to put it as Morpheus from The Matrix: take the blue pill, and you'll wake up, thinking this all a beautiful dream, and continuing with your lives, or will you take the red pill, and let me show you how deep the rabbit hole goes?" 

"That's not exactly how he said, it," one member whispered. When the others turned to stare at him, he shrugged, and muttered, "But it's basically right."

"I understand it's a big decision, but for security reasons, I can't let you go… I can show you to some quarters, where you can stay to think thing over, if you want," Llewellyn offered. 

"Let me see if I understand this," Jaron asked. "If we say 'no'…"

"A magic-user will put you to sleep, port you home, put you to bed, and you'll wake up thinking this all a dream, and treat it as such. A wonderfully relaxing dream, which will fade quickly from memory," Llewellyn answered. "We need to maintain secrecy."

The group was shown to quarters. Barely an hour later, all of them agreed to join Phoenix Force. The knowledge of belonging to something so secret it was protected by magic from outside influence, the knowledge of being among those few chosen to defend humanity, it was all so appealing. 

Next Sunday evening, Buffy and Llewellyn were standing in the income hall of the Phoenix Force building, apparently waiting for someone. That someone appeared about ten minutes later.

"Hey, Sam!" Llewellyn greeted his thirteen-year-old daughter, who jumped around his neck the moment she saw him. After she released him, she hugged Buffy.

"Good to see you, Honey," Buffy said while they hugged. 

"Good to see you too, Buffy," Samantha replied.

"I hope you didn't put your grandfather through too many problems?" Llewellyn asked with a twinkle in his eye.

"Dad!" Sam squealed, mock-offended. "I _never_ give any trouble! Besides, we had a blast, didn't we, Granddad?"

"We sure did, Sweetie, " Hank Summers said, smiling, while rubbing Sam's raven tresses.

Samantha smiled at her grandfather before turning to Llewellyn. "We spent the entire weekend eating pizza, drinking soda, and watching TV!"

Llewellyn and Buffy shared a glance. After the couple winked at Hank without Sam noticing, Llewellyn said, "Looks like we'll have our hands full with getting that excess baggage of you, then."

"Yeah," Buffy said, nodding slowly. "I'm sure Kendra and Faith wouldn't mind joining in… with the four of us, I'm sure we'll have that weight off you in no time."

"Hey!" Sam protested.

"They're right, Sweetie," Hank said, deciding on getting a hit in. "Don't do the crime if you can't do the time."

"But…but…" Sam stuttered. She looked at the three smiling faces, and knew that she had been had. She crossed her arms, her face sour. "Very funny. Ha ha."

Buffy and Llewellyn laughed, drawing the teen in for a hug. Samantha laughed as well. 

"Thanks for having her over, Hank," Llewellyn said, shaking the man's hand while still holding his daughter in a hug. 

"Hey, no problem. We always have loads of fun. Don't we, Sam?"

"Yeah," Sam said, nodding.

"Anyway, I have to get going," Hank said. 

"Sure. No problem," Llewellyn said, shaking Hank's hand. After Buffy and Sam had hugged the man, he said his final goodbyes, and left. The trio was on their way to the motor pool, to start their drive home, when a message came through the intercom. 

_Urgent call for Mrs. Buffy Morgan. I repeat, urgent call for Mrs. Buffy Morgan._

"I wonder what that is," Buffy asked semi-out loud, while grabbing her cell phone. She flipped it open, and dialed a number. "This is Buffy. You had a call waiting for me? Thank you."

"Yes, this is her," Buffy replied. She listened intently, before her face grew as pale as a ghost's. "Could you…say that again?" she asked. Again, she listened. "Thank you… yeah, I'll be right there…thanks…" the call disconnected. 

Buffy closed the phone. Gently. She took out her keys just as gently. "Hospital," she whispered. "Mom fell unconscious. They think she has a tumor."

Buffy didn't realize they had been running from the moment she had started talking. She only realized it when they had reached her car. Without her having said anything, Llewellyn had grabbed the wheel, and she dumped herself in the passenger seat. Sam jumped in the backseat. Llewellyn keyed the ignition. 

"Gabriel. Race mode," Llewellyn ordered, gunning the car out of the motor pool. The rear tires howled when they blasted out of the motor pool. No one bothered stopping the car. The front gates opened in front of the car, which never slowed down. 

Llewellyn threw the car onto the open road, driving as if he had been born on a racetrack. Buffy just stared at the road whizzing by, nothing registering. Samantha, on the back seat, didn't know what to say or do, so she just remained quiet. 

Barely five minutes later, Llewellyn threw the car into an empty spot on the parking lot of the Sunnydale Memorial Hospital. 

It was in the elevator that Buffy started to lose her grip on herself. Looking worried, Llewellyn put an arm around his wife, an embrace she leaned into, and which seemed to give her strength. When the doors opened, Buffy detached herself, and insisted that she could do this. They walked to the office of the doctor that had called Buffy, and were immediately allowed in. The moment the door closed, Buffy ran to the doctor.

"How is she?" Buffy asked, looking ready to pounce the doctor, who was looking over some scans.

"I will be honest," the doctor said, sitting down at his desk. "Maybe you should sit down?" Llewellyn sat down as well, while Sam pulled up a chair and sat down on his left side. This left one empty chair on Llewellyn's right side. 

"I prefer to stand," Buffy said emotionally, looming over the doctor. The doctor looked at what he thought was a seventeen-year-old girl.

"Very well. I'll be honest… your mother collapsed in the mall. We immediately did a CAT scan, which provided us with this." The doctor said, getting up, and motioning toward the pictures. Llewellyn got up, and looked intently at them.

"A shadow," he muttered. "Did you do a biopsy yet?"

The doctor looked strangely at Llewellyn for a second, before nodding. "We did. The results were not encouraging." 

"Can I see them?" Llewellyn asked, still looking from one picture to another. 

"Of course, Mr. Morgan. But I don't think you'd be able to…"

"Just get them," Llewellyn grunted dangerously. The doctor shut up at the icy coldness in Llewellyn's tone, and grabbed a file off his desk. Llewellyn yanked it from the doctor's hands.

He flipped it open, and started scanning the values. "A low-grade oligodendroglioma. Looks operable. But her chances…"

The doctor gulped, and stared at Llewellyn. "Just our thoughts, sir. We had these results double-checked. It is operable. The operation is scheduled for the day after tomorrow."

"Cancel it," Llewellyn said immediately, turning to Samantha. "Sam, call Xavier. Ask him to ready my medical books and notes. I'll need to catch up." He turned to Buffy.

"Excuse me, but you can't just order me to cancel an operation!" the doctor interjected.

Llewellyn turned to the man, intending to explain a couple of things, nicely. Buffy beat him to it. She had jumped _around_ Llewellyn, grabbed the doctor by his white coat, threw him against the wall, and pinned him there.

"You listen to me, and you listen carefully. If my honey says to cancel the surgery, than you cancel it. I don't know why, but one thing I _do_ know: when he says to do something, and he says it like that, he knows _precisely_ what he's doing, and you can bet your chubby ass that he's doing what's best!" Buffy hissed in the doctor's face.

"Buffy, Love, you're scaring him," Llewellyn whispered, putting a hand on her shoulder. 

Buffy took a deep breath, relaxed, and released the doctor. "This is why I want this surgery cancelled," Llewellyn told the doctor. "This woman is my mother-in-law. She is family. And I will move heaven an earth to make sure that she has the best chance of survival. And her best chance lies with the best doctors. No offense, but Sunnydale is a small town."

The doctor nodded, pale as a ghost, and sweating heavily. Llewellyn turned to Buffy. "Love…let me explain. Your mother has a tumor. A brain tumor. It's a low-grade glioma. It causes mood swings, seizures, memory lapses, and so on. The good news is that the tumor looks operable."

"And the bad news?" Buffy asked, sounding so scared Llewellyn hated himself for not being able to do anything to relieve her pain.

"She has a one in three chance," Llewellyn replied. Buffy fell into the nearest chair. Llewellyn knelt down right next to her.

"But Buffy, I want you to know that I'll do whatever I can to make her better. I can't cheat death, I can stack the deck in our favor as much as possible."

Buffy looked at him, her eyes teary. "How?" she whispered.

"I will call my mentor… he's rumored to be one of the best neurosurgeons in the country, if not the world. I'll ask for his help," Llewellyn replied. H took her two hands in his, and held them tight. "I promise, Buffy. I won't let her go without fighting with every bit of pull I can summon."

Buffy fell in his arms. "I'm so scared," she cried. "What…what if she…"

"Never think like that, My Love. We have to think positive. Joyce will get better. She'll have the best of the best working on her."

They had been allowed to see Joyce, unconscious, and connected to all types of machinery. They weren't allowed to stay for long, and Llewellyn took his wife and his daughter home. 

Half an hour later, Llewellyn was buried up to his nose in books, and notes he had made in class. He flipped page after page. Buffy sat in front of him, drawing strength form his feverish activities. Every now and then, he emptied a cup of coffee, a cup Xavier replenished just as readily. 

He grabbed for the phone, and dialed a number. He put the phone of speaker-phone, so he could continue his efforts without having to sacrifice the use of one hand.

_Chicago Hope hospital, Aaron Shutt's office. How can I help you?_

"Yes, hello. This is Llewellyn Morgan. Is Dr. Shutt in? I once did my apprenticeship under him." _Too bad I never did anything with it… I would've liked to do the surgery myself. But, I had more pressing matters at the time._ He glanced at Buffy. _I should've started working about the same time I had to fight some master vampires, and I got involved with the group._

_One moment, sir,_ the secretary replied on a friendly tone, and an 'on hold' piece of music started playing. Barely ten seconds later, the phone was picked up.

_Llewellyn! It's good to hear from you,_ the man said amicably. 

"I wish it were under better circumstances, Aaron. I need your help," Llewellyn said.

_Lew, you graduated magna cum-laude from Harvard Medical. You were one of the best and most talented people I ever worked with. I have to say I'm surprised. But, if you think I can help, go ahead._ The man's voice sounded just as surprised as his words expressed.

"I never practiced, Aaron. A couple of weeks before I was to start working in LA, I met someone, and one thing led to another. Anyway, do you have a fax?"

_I see. Yes, I have a fax. Hang on, I'll give you the number._ Llewellyn pulled a laptop from his desk, and pulled up everything he had gathered on Joyce's illness. Llewellyn got the number, and the computer started faxing the files.

"The woman is named Joyce Summers. She's my mother-in-law," Llewellyn told the phone. 

_Now I see what you meant by 'one thing led to another'. I am receiving the files now. Would you mind if I called you back in a couple of hours? That way, I can take a closer look at these documents._

"Sure. That'd be great. Thanks, Aaron," Llewellyn said, sounding relieved.

_No problem. I'll call you back in a couple of hours._ The phone disconnected.

Llewellyn sat up straight, and looked at Buffy. "I'll do anything I can," he vowed. She nodded dazedly, her emotional reserves almost gone. She had anchored herself to Llewellyn, his strength, and his experience. She had an absolute faith in him.

"Why don't you go to bed, Love? It's been a hellish evening," Llewellyn offered. Buffy shook her head.

"No. I couldn't sleep now," she replied. "Every… every time I close my eyes, I see her…in that bed, with all those _things_ sticking out of her." Buffy's voice sounded weak, her body shaking. Llewellyn got up, walked around his desk, and hugged his wife. She burrowed into his arms, her dams finally breaking. Buffy cried.

"That's it, Love," Llewellyn whispered gently. "Let it out. Let it all out."

"I…I can't lose her! Not yet…I…there's so much…," Buffy moaned, her body shaking. Llewellyn tightened his hug, pressing her closer to him.

"I know, Love. I know. I promise I'll do whatever I can to save her," he vowed, closing his own eyes to stop them from pricking. He refused to cry, to show just how much this situation was affecting him. He couldn't show weakness… he had to be strong, help his wife through this difficult period. 

Finally, the rough moment seemed to pass, and Buffy's sobs slowly died out. "Are you okay now, Love?" Llewellyn asked.

She nodded weakly, giving him a small smile. "Yeah," she said with only little conviction. Llewellyn smiled encouragingly, and released her. He sat down behind his desk again. His eyes dropped on an older book, and he dug it out of the pile. He opened it as soon as he recognized it.

_Thank you, Sam!_ Llewellyn thought to his daughter. He pressed a key on the phone. "Xavier, could you go to Chi-Bang's for me? Ask him for the three strongest therapeutic magnets he has, as well as a rod of tourmaline, or better, a healing wand, if he has one."

_Of course, Monsieur._ Xavier didn't even think about the fact that it was getting late. He just went out, and did what Llewellyn asked. He knew Chi-Bang to be a good friend, who wouldn't mind helping.

Buffy, who had looked up when Llewellyn placed his order, now looked at him with open eyes. Llewellyn held up one finger, indicating they would talk in just a moment. He dialed a number.

"Chi-Bang? It's Lew here," Llewellyn told the phone.

_How can I help you?_ Chi-Bang asked immediately.

"My mother-in-law is sick, Chi-Bang. I need some things to help her recovery."

_Me and my store are at your disposal, Lew. How can I help?_ the man replied, not seeming to care that he was disturbed on a Sunday evening.

"I have sent Xavier to your store. I asked for the three strongest therapeutic magnets you have available…"

_Three identical ones?_ Chi-Bang asked. 

"Yes," Llewellyn answered.

_No problem. They will be there,_ the oriental man replied.

"As well as a tourmaline, or a healing wand, if you happen to have one," Llewellyn said, his tone bordering on 'you're my last hope'.

_Three magnets and a healing wand. What is the area that needs healing?_

"She has a brain tumor," Llewellyn replied sadly.

_My condolences to you and your wife, _Chi-Bang said sadly. _I will prepare a healing wand, and the three magnets will be waiting for Xavier when he gets here._

"Thanks, Chi-Bang. You can put it on my bill."

_No problem, Lew._

"Bye, Chi-Bang. I really appreciate you helping out."

_No problem, Lew. Good-bye._ The phone line disconnected.

"What are you doing?" Buffy asked wonderingly.

"Those magnets emit a very strong magnetic field, a field which stimulates blood flow and cellular regeneration. They will come in handy after the operation, to help your mother heal. And tourmaline is a crystal that emits a very strong anti-cancer vibration. A healing wand is even better, since it has different kinds of crystals working together. Any of them will help in your mother's recovery, both before and after the operation."

"You believe that new-age stuff?" Buffy asked, doubtingly.

"I _introduced_ that new-age stuff, based on ancient methods of healing I gathered all over the world. Unfortunately, a lot of quacks have taken over, but I still know the right ones. It is always best to bet on all horses. Modern day medicines and operations, coupled to ancient methods of healing, thousands of years old, in the case of the crystals. The magnets are younger, but crystals have been used since the dawn of time."

Buffy's jaw dropped. Llewellyn smiled. "I told you I would do whatever I could," he said, reaching over the desk and taking her hand. He squeezed it tightly, to show his conviction.

Like that they spent the next hour: Llewellyn going through his books at a brisk pace, re-familiarizing himself with the medical procedures, and Buffy watching him, drawing strength form his conviction.

Then, the phone rang. Llewellyn's hand snapped out and pressed the speaker. 

"Good news, Aaron?" Llewellyn asked. 

_I went through the files you sent me, and it appears your diagnosis is correct. _

"I know this may be asking a lot, Aaron, but could you do the operation? As I said, I haven't held a scalpel since I left Chicago Hope."

_I thought you might ask. My schedule's really full, so I can't really come out over there._

"No problem. I'll have her flown over to Chicago. When would you be able to do the operation?" Llewellyn replied immediately, already preparing a mental list on things to take care of. 

_Well, the earliest spot I have available is for the day after tomorrow, but I'll understand if that's too soon._

"It's perfect, Aaron. You can expect us as soon as possible. Right now I have some flights to schedule. Thanks. I really appreciate it."

_Still the old Llewellyn,_ Aaron replied. _When you have something in mind, things move like lightning. I'll be expecting you, and I'll put out the word that your mother-in-law will be arriving. The paperwork will be minimal, and a private room will be available for after the operation._

"Thanks, Aaron. I really appreciate it."

_No problem. Now, I'll let you make your arrangements._

"Thanks. I'll see you in a day at the most," Llewellyn said, before hanging up. He immediately started dialing.

"Why don't we use magic, anyway?" Buffy asked, as if the thought only now just struck her. 

"Magic works on inflicted wounds, and poisonings, and such. A natural disease doesn't heal easily. For example, Esmeralda could heal Joyce's wounds from the operation without problem, but the cancer itself is considered part of the body, and can't be touched… well, actually, it can be done, but it takes such a tremendous load that it's best to always consider the mundane options first. As long as those aren't exhausted, we'll keep magic in reserve."

"This is Llewellyn Morgan. I would like to have my jet prepared for a medical flight…" Llewellyn said in the phone. 

Buffy awoke after barely a few hours of restless sleep. Immediately jumping out of the empty bed, the blonde Slayer made her way downstairs. She needed something with loads of calories. She just _knew _it. 

"I know it's a lot to ask, but could you ask Marie to prepare one of those English breakfasts?" Buffy asked Xavier.

"Eggs, bacon, sausages, toast, pancakes, with syrup, marmalade, honey, and coffee that's so strong it'll throw your spoon in your face?" Xavier asked.

Buffy nodded, giving a small grateful smile. She always ate when she was upset. To her surprise, it didn't take longer than five minutes, which led her to believe that Marie had anticipated on her request. Buffy smiled at the thoughtfulness of these two people, these two people who took care of her as if they were family. Buffy scratched that thought. Xavier and Marie _were _family.

She threw some honey in her coffee, put some marmalade of god-knew-what flavor on her toast, and started inhaling. In between bites, she found some time to pour a voluptuous amount of maple syrup over the stack of pancakes, before consuming them, too. The coffee gave her strength to face another day, and her round tummy assured her that she had enough energy to fight a dozen vampire armies. The only problem now, Buffy realized, was the fact that this was worse than fighting vampire armies. 

After finishing her breakfast, she took her time to thank Xavier and Marie before making her way to go look for Llewellyn. She knew he hadn't come to bed. She never slept well without him anymore. He made her feel safe, loved, and protected. She liked to cuddle up to him before going to sleep, his warm body and strong muscles assuring her subconscious she would be well looked after.

Buffy first went to the study, to find it empty. Well, not exactly empty, because there were books and notes scattered all over the place, but empty in the sense that Llewellyn wasn't present. Buffy sighed, and rubbed her forehead. 

"Morning Buffy," Sam greeted, popping up behind the Slayer. Buffy, startled, reacted by instinct, jumped up and turned 180°. She fell into a combat stance. 

"Sam!" Buffy squeaked. Her posture relaxed. "You shouldn't sneak up on me like that," the Slayer added quietly.

"Sorry," Sam muttered. "Just wanted to let you know that Dad's probably at the temple. That's usually where he is if he's not studying."

"Experience?" Buffy asked, smiling.

"Experience," the girl confirmed with a nod of her head. "Anyway, I'm going to get breakfast now."

Buffy nodded, and Samantha walked off towards the breakfast room. "Sam!" Buffy yelled after the teenager. Samantha turned around, confused. 

"Ask for the English breakfast. I'm sure Marie has made enough for the entire family," Buffy suggested. Samantha smiled, and nodded. 

"I'll do that. Thanks."

"And thanks for letting me know. About Lew," Buffy said. "And sorry about that…"

Samantha waved her hand. "Forget about it. It's not the first time it's happened… usually, when dad goes a couple days without sleep, he jumps at me too. I'm used to it." Without those words, Samantha disappeared into the breakfast room, smiling. 

Buffy sighed, and proceeded to the temple. Again, ancient music reached her ears before she could see her intended target. Only this time Buffy knew it wasn't Ingrid's anniversary, so it must be something else. It also meant that it was safe for her. Buffy walked to the temple, the greenery of the garden now fully grown in. Llewellyn had rushed some of the plants and trees, but he had left most of them alone, choosing to let nature run it's course.

Llewellyn was sitting against a pillar, playing his flute. Buffy walked into the temple, and sat down. she closed her eyes, and let the music wash over her. She was the only one he would play the flute for. She knew it. It was something private to him, something he had shared with Ingrid. And Buffy was the only one he would allow to partake in it. 

The song ended. "That bad?" Buffy asked.

"It helps to unwind," Llewellyn answered. "I usually play for fifteen minutes or so each time I pull an all-nighter. Helps to relax me, something of a recharge mode."

"So, what's new?" Buffy asked, her eyes open, her mind and her heart screaming 'uncertainty', and 'nervousness'. 

"I got the plane refitted, and a flight plan submitted. We're leaving at eleven a.m., local time. I have a medical helicopter ready at Chicago O'Hare airport. Phoenix Force has been notified that we're not available for the next two weeks. I also notified Crevan, who would tell the rest."

"So, everything's taken care of?" Buffy asked.

Llewellyn nodded, and closed his eyes. "Yes. I reviewed all my medical notes. I'll assist Aaron with the surgery tomorrow. There's nothing more we can do, except put the healing wand in your mother's hands as soon as we can. It'll help stabilize her. For all the rest, we'll have to wait."

Buffy slid over, and leaned against him. "I feel so useless," the Slayer whispered. "All I can do is wait."

"I know," Llewellyn replied. "Until tomorrow, there's nothing more I can do either."

"Honey?" Buffy asked, looking up at him.

"Yes, Love?" Llewellyn asked, smiling encouragingly while looking down at her.

"Play for me?" she asked. Llewellyn smiled, shifted a little so his arms had a little more leeway, and put the flute to his lips. Ancient notes filled the air soon after, soothing the two sole occupants of the temple.

The operation was well underway, a gentle piece of classical music playing in the background to help the assorted people concentrate. 

"The tumor has not entwined with any arteries, and I am now preparing to start the cutting process," Aaron said out loud. "Laser-cutter."

"Cutter," Llewellyn said, handing the device to the surgeon. Aaron started the painstaking work of removing the tumor from Joyce's head. 

He was just about to remove the final part when a monitor started beeping incessantly, and the assistant in charge of monitoring Joyce's vital signs yelled, "We've lost heartbeat!"

"Shit!" Llewellyn cursed, jumping around to immediately assist with the CPR procedures. 

"Defib!" Aaron yelled. The pads were handed to him, and he clamped them down on Joyce's chest. 

"Ready!" the assistant yelled.

"Clear!" Aaron shouted, scattering the people working on Joyce. Her body veered up. The monitor bleeped once. Twice. Then, it started beeping continuously once again.

"Start CPR. Charge to three hundred!" Aaron yelled. Llewellyn pressed down on Joyce's heart region again, while a second assistant was holding a breathing bag. 

"Five," Llewellyn counted. "Breathe!" the assistant squeezed the bag, emptying the air in the bag into Joyce's lungs. Llewellyn checked the monitor. "No pulse," he said, and prepared for another round. 

"Charged!" the assistant at the defibrillator yelled.

"Clear!" Aaron yelled, and pressed the pads to Joyce's chest again. Again, the body veered up. The monitor flat-lined again after only two beats. 

"Shit," Llewellyn grunted, pumping rhythmically once again. 

"Full charge!" Aaron yelled at the defib-assistant. "Epinephrine!" he shouted at a nurse, who grabbed for a large syringe, and started filling it with the artificial adrenalin-replacing hormone, ready for injection directly into the heart muscle.

"Come on, Joyce! You can't do this!" Llewellyn yelled. "I know you hate my guts, but at least do it for Buffy! She'll have my hide if anything happens to you! Come on! Beat, damn it! That's five. Breathe!"

The assistant squeezed the bag. Joyce's chest rose at the artificial breathing. 

"Charged!" the defib-assistant yelled. Aaron nodded at Llewellyn, who grabbed the syringe, and injected the artificial hormone directly into the heart-muscle. 

Aaron pressed. "Clear!" 

Joyce's body veered up a third time. The monitor beeped. Once. Two times. Three times. Joyce's heart settled into a steady rhythm. Everyone breathed a sigh of relief. 

"Close call, people," Aaron said. He nodded encouraging at Llewellyn. "Good job," he told everyone, but Llewellyn in particular. 

Taking another half a minute to calm down, the neurosurgeon once more took the small cutter, and removed the last remainder of the tumor. 

"That's the last," Aaron said. "I am now double-checking." Another five minutes later, he sutured the incision in Joyce's skull. 

Buffy looked up when she saw Llewellyn come from the OR. "How did it go?" she asked quietly, scared.

"We removed the tumor, Love," Llewellyn said, voice sounding tired. Not surprising, considering the fact that he hadn't slept much the last couple of days, and a twelve-hour surgery was draining under the best of circumstances. "Aaron is running a blood sample to the lab to check for cancer cells in her bloodstream."

Buffy shook her head, looking confused. "What does that men?" she asked.

"We managed to remove the tumor, but we have to check to see if it didn't spread to anywhere else in the body. Chances are good that it hasn't, since it wasn't connected to any major arteries, but we have to be sure."

"But the tumor's gone, right?" Buffy asked. Llewellyn nodded.

"Yes. She'll wake up in a day or so, after the swelling of her brain has died down. Surgery always makes the brain swell."

Buffy beamed a smile at him. "So she should be alright?"

Llewellyn smiled, and nodded. "After the blood test we'll have certainty. Right now, I'd say there is a good chance Joyce will recover completely, without chemotherapy." 

Buffy beamed, and jumped in his arms. She kissed him passionately. "Thank you, Honey. For doing this."

Llewellyn smiled tiredly at his wife. "No problem, Love. Now, would you mind letting go of me? I'm in desperate need of some sleep, and I'm sure that the nurses won't mind you sitting with Joyce. I'm sure you're dying to see her."

Buffy nodded, and put her feet back on the ground. "You go sleep," she said. "You earned it."

Llewellyn smiled slightly. "Aaron will tell you the results as soon as he has them."

She kissed him again. "Thanks." Her voice sounding stern, she added, "Now it's bed-time, mister."

Llewellyn nodded tiredly, and removed himself from the hospital. He walked to the nearby hotel, and crashed into bed, not to emerge without at least a dozen hours of sleep.

Joyce remained in an artificially induced coma for the next couple of days, to allow the swelling in her brain to settle. Llewellyn and Buffy remained in Chicago, while the rest of the Scooby Gang popped in on a regular basis to catch up on the latest information. 

It was late the second day after Joyce's operation. Buffy had gone to the hotel room, to catch up on some much-needed sleep. Llewellyn was sitting next to Joyce's bed, reading a magazine called 'Physics and Quantum Physics'. The lead article was called 'The Theory of Everything: Crack or Genius?'. No matter how interesting the article, Llewellyn yawned when he felt exhaustion creep up on him. 

He stood up, put his magazine down on the nightstand, and went out to grab a cup of coffee. After throwing down the first cup, he ordered a second cup, before returning to the room. Putting the Styrofoam coffee cup down, Llewellyn bent over Joyce. He checked to see if the band with the three magnets were still in place, as well as the crystal-equipped healing wand in the woman's hands. 

"Still fast asleep, I see," the Immortal muttered. Silently, his mind added, _at least you're getting all the sleep you need, you lucky woman._ Smiling at the thought, he sat down with the magazine in his lap, and sipped from his coffee. He shuddered. _Damn hospital coffee. Three sugars and half a cup of milk, and this crap still tastes like something dredged out of a sewer._

But, at least it had some caffeine to keep him awake. At around six the next morning, Buffy relieved him of his watch, allowing him to catch some sleep.

Llewellyn fell into bed, his tired mind going into mage-sleep almost on instinct. Every hour of rest would count for two, a fact that Llewellyn more than welcomed. His rest didn't last for too long… by eleven, the phone rang.

"Hello?" he asked the receiver. 

"Lew! It's Buffy! Mom's awake!" Llewellyn smiled at the excited tone in his wife's voice. 

"Great! How is she?" he asked, immediately awake.

"She's fine, Honey. Just fine. We've been talking a little, and, well, I just wanted to let you know."

"Thanks, Love. I'll come right over, okay? Have you notified the staff yet? Aaron will probably want to check up on her."

"Yeah. They're calling him right now," Buffy replied. 

"Great. Well, I'll be right over, Love."

"Okay," Buffy replied.

"See you then, Love," Llewellyn said, before hanging up. He jumped under the shower, changed into some fresh clothes, and made his way to the hospital. He thought he made pretty good time, too, only taking barely half an hour to get from his bed to the hospital.

"Hello, Joyce. Feeling better, I see," Llewellyn asked when he walked into the room. 

"I am," Joyce replied rather cool. 

"How does the head feel? Not too painful, I hope?" Llewellyn asked.

"Not really. After I removed that junk," Joyce stated, dipping her head in the direction of the magnet-headband. The healing wand was lying right next to it. 

"Well, junk or not, they helped you heal," Llewellyn said, picking up the discarded items. 

Joyce just 'humph'-ed, and claimed that it was the surgery, not the new-age stuff, that had helped her. Buffy could see that the situation was degenerating. Even though her mother and her husband had come to terms, more or less, there were frequent fights, and she had come to recognize the indications. Llewellyn, knowing that he was right, tried to bring that knowledge across. Joyce, too rooted in her own belief system, refused to accept it. Result was global thermonuclear war.

"Honey? Could you get me a cup of coffee?" Buffy asked sweetly. She needed to diffuse the situation. NOW. 

Llewellyn looked at his wife. _She probably wants some time alone with hr mother. I probably intruded on something personal. Damn me and my interfering ways, _ Llewellyn cursed himself. "Sure, Love," he said, nodding in Joyce's direction before leaving the room.

"Okay, Mom. We need to talk. Why are you always fighting?" Buffy asked, sounding annoyed.

"Honey! It takes two to fight!" Joyce protested. "Besides, you don't believe this stuff either. Come on! Magnets? Crystals?"

Buffy sat down on the edge of the bed, really close to Joyce, whose head was still bandaged up. "I am not talking about the actual fighting. I'm talking about what causes it in the first place. Llewellyn tries to explain something, and you make him out to be a liar. And why are you so cool to him now? He probably saved your life."

"With what? Some new-age mumbo-jumbo?" Joyce asked, harshly. On a gentler tone, she continued, "Honey, I know you love him, but he's not God. You shouldn't place so much trust in him… he's just a man. A very old man, but still a man. You shouldn't think he can work miracles."

Buffy's face twisted. The Slayer took a couple of breaths to calm herself, before she leaned in closer to her mother. "Mom. I love you. And I love him. I want to keep you both in my life for as long as possible. But please, don't ask me to chose between you two, because you can't win."

Joyce stared shocked at her daughter. "Wha…"

"No. Mom. Don't. That man has saved my life countless of times. He and his friends have saved the lives of Xander, Willow, and Amy over and over again. They taught us how to take care of ourselves. Who knows how things might have turned out if he hadn't come into our lives? He saved me, and the rest of my friends, not only physically, but mentally! And I wouldn't be so cold to him if I were you because he most just definitely saved _your_ life as well!"

"Buffy…" Joyce tried.

"He _assisted_ in the operation, Mom! He called in his tutor, a man reputed to be one of the best neurosurgeons on the planet. He had his jet converted so you could be flown to Chicago. He had to pull a lot of strings to get you transported by helicopter from the airport to the hospital, just so you would have a more comfortable ride, instead of being bumped around in an ambulance. Like I said, he assisted in the operation. He hasn't slept for days, and he's barely eaten or drunk anything. I would be a lot nicer to him, Mom. At least show him some gratitude."

Llewellyn came back, holding a Styrofoam cup. "here you go, Love," he said, smiling. "One cup of sewer-dredge."

Buffy snickered, and took a sip from the liquid. Joyce looked confused.

"Our nickname for the coffee," Buffy said on a cheery tone. "Because of it's taste."

"It looks like I owe you an apology, Lew," Joyce told the man. "Buffy told me what you did for me. Thank you."

Llewellyn shot his wife an annoyed look, and sat down on the other side of the bed. "Joyce, it was nothing. You're family. No matter what kind of differences we may have had in the past, you are family. And if there's one thing I've learned, it's that one should always take care of one's family."

Joyce smiled, and nodded.

At the same time, someplace far away, a blonde woman, appearing to be in her mid-twenties, was doing pushups. Dressed in a bright fluorescent-red leotard, and carrying a massive concrete block on her back. Her face was red, her beautiful blonde hair was hanging in wet tresses down from her head, and sweat poured from her skin. 

"First, they ran me out of Sunnydale," the woman said, sounding cheery. "That really upset me, you know," she continued, turning to look at a demon clad in a monk's robe. The demon nodded incessantly.

"Yes, your most exalted one. Of course," the demon replied, his voice groveling so deep it went deep into the Earth's core.

As if the woman, wasn't even paying attention to the demon's praises, she went on, "But, I got over it. After all, just a minor setback. But, they keep annoying me!" the woman whined. "All I want is to go home. Is that so much to ask?"

"No, of course not your most beautiful high-born goddess," the demon replied. 

"I mean, just because it will bring Hell on Earth is no reason to get in my way." The woman got up, the concrete block sliding off her back. She looked at it, drew one hand, and punched. The concrete shattered. "And those stupid Phoenix Force guys keep stopping me!" she whined. "They didn't just run me out of the Hellmouth, they embarrass me! And I don't like to be embarrassed!"

"None of us do, o most beautiful star in the firmament," the demon agreed. 

"So, I train, even though it hurts, and makes me," she smelled under her armpit, "…ew… sweat. I need a bath. Prepare one for me," she ordered the demon, who left under the same incessant praises.

A new demon appeared in the room. This one was dressed in a complete ninja-gi, the only thing visible were his two eyes. Eyes that were not human in the least, pupils glowing a faint yellow-amber surrounded by lavender-colored 'whites'. He sized her up.

"Glorificus," the demon-ninja said as greeting. 

"There you are!" the woman replied, turning to the newcomer. "Have you found the Key?"

"It is in Sunnydale. Unfortunately, it's inside Phoenix Force headquarters. No evil may set foot in the building or on its surrounding grounds," the demon-ninja answered.

"I am Glory!" the woman shouted. "Hell-God! I answer to the Supreme Evil only!"

"Even the Supreme Evil would have much trouble to set foot there unaided. It needs to be exorcised. The entire building was constructed using the most powerful of blessings and protection-magics. Spells that have been lost for thousands of years have resurfaced."

"_WHAT?_" Glory shouted. "How can they _do _that to me? All I want is that Key… that's not that much to ask…"

"I can only speculate as to how they got hold of those spells, Glorious One."

"Please. Speculate," the woman replied on a whining tone. 

"Those spell require a tremendous magical skill and knowledge. They must have a magic-user old enough to either know the spells, or be able to learn them."

"Tell me something I don't know!" Glory shouted, appearing in front of the demon-ninja. "They have someone rumored to be stronger than Merlin! _And_ they have Dominus Necarum to supply her with all the knowledge she wants!"

The ninja looked at the Hell-God. "The building's shields and protections are impenetrable. In order to breach the protection, a huge expenditure of magic, skill, and brute force will be required. A Black Sorcerer of tremendous skill and power."

Glory grabbed the demon-ninja by his clothes, and hefted him off the floor. The next moment, she had catapulted him against the wall behind him. "They have some of _Merlin's_ power! People that strong don't come around every year, you know! It was good luck for us that Merlin died, but this one's even worse! And it took fifteen hundred years for her to rise! What do you suggest? Wait another fifteen hundred, and corrupt the next one that comes along?"

"I know someone," the ninja replied, getting up. "A Dark Wizard. Huge power. He might help. On the other hand, he might not."

"Really?" Glory asked, sarcastically. She stepped up to the ninja once again. "Tell this Dark Wizard to come here. I'm sure we can work something out." Glory saw her servant enter the quarters, again praising her, and apologizing exuberantly for bothering her. Turning to her companion, Glory said, "My bath's ready. Now go get this Wizard-friend of yours."

"He might need an incentive," the ninja said. "What can I promise him?"

Glory turned back to the ninja, grunting as she did so, and looking bored as hell. "What would he want? A piece of the planet? Fine. Give him half. All I want is the Key."

The ninja dipped his head, and disappeared. Glory turned to her servant. "A nice, relaxing bath is just what I need," the Hell-God said.

Llewellyn walked into the command center. He returned the salute of a couple people, and nodded a hello to some others. He halted next to Patricia.

"Welcome back, sir. How is Joyce, if I may ask?" Patricia greeted him, looking up momentarily form her computer screen. 

"She's just fine. We just dropped her off at her house. Buffy decided to stay with her for the night, just in case," Llewellyn replied coolly. "Could you pull up the global map?"

"Of course, sir," Patricia answered, pressing a combination of keys on her keyboard. The big screen changed to a global map, various dots indicating where vampire and demonic activity had been detected, and other dots indicating where teams were either getting ready for, or where they were going at it right this instant.

"Enhance Russia. Moscow," Llewellyn said. Patricia nodded, and, tapped a few more keys. The map changed. 

"What's the classification?" Llewellyn asked, looking at a purple dot that was located bang in the middle of the screen.

"Class B-5, sir," Patricia replied. Llewellyn nodded pensively.

"Both demons and vampires. What's the team that's getting ready?" 

Patricia glanced at her screen. "Team Timber Wolf, sir."

"Hmm. That's Gérard Depardieu's team. What's their ETC?" Llewellyn asked.

"Estimated Time to Completion is five hours, sir."

"Hmm," Llewellyn said again. "Any anomalies that classify B-4 or higher that haven't been assigned yet?"

Patricia's nimble fingers rattled the Dvorak-keyboard. "There's one that's just come in. Tokyo. It's being prepared for The Lion Pack, sir. Classification B-6."

"Heavier resistance than the Moscow target. The Lion Pack won't be needed. I'm going to relieve some stress. Who's the porter on duty?" 

"I believe it's Dovron, sir."

"Thanks, Patricia."

"No problem, sir. You're welcome."

Llewellyn nodded in Patricia's direction, and walked out the room to meet Dovron, the sorcerer of Utahraptor Horde. But first, he would get into his battle suit. Within ten minutes, Llewellyn was underway to Tokyo. 

He appeared smack bang in the middle of a large car park, in a sub-basement located deep underground. The entire floor was basically an open room, supported by columns of solid concrete. About half of it was lighted by flickering torches.

Llewellyn drew his sword, and charged the sixty or so vampires that were present. A couple of vampires attacked Llewellyn, thinking it enough. 

Llewellyn dispatched them quickly enough, materializing a stake in his empty left hand, and staking the first vampire. He decapitated the second vampire, and brought the stake back to stake the third vampire.

For a moment, the large group of vampires and the three demons looked at Llewellyn, staring at the 'mortal' as if he suddenly sported seven heads and had grown scales.

"Come get some," Llewellyn said. His mind was gripping, delving into old memories. When a dozen vampires rushed him, Llewellyn didn't wait for them to reach him. He charged of his own. 

With each slash of his blade and each thrust of the stake Llewellyn's mind unleashed more and more the terrible forces stored in it. The vampires, noting that their ten comrades were losing, charged all at the same time.

Llewellyn started shouting. Fireballs left his hands, scorching vampires left and right. His sword and his stake were flying at speeds incredible. Ten vampires fell. Fifteen vampires had fallen.

By now, the vampires had surrounded him, and Llewellyn knew that he was in trouble. He didn't care. A vampire jumped his back, and Llewellyn flipped him over, throwing the vampire into the vampires that were charging Llewellyn's front. The Immortal closed his eyes, and breathed calmly. His sixth sense, the sense instilled in him by the samurai, came into play. He could hear every footstep, feel the very presences of the undead beasts moving around him.

_Whirlwind,_ Llewellyn's mind whispered. Dematerializing the stake, Llewellyn grabbed his sword with both hands. He started charging, tumbling like a whirlwind, his blade describing perfect circles. Since Llewellyn's speed stopped him from adjusting the elevation of the blade, most vampires weren't decapitated, but rather cut in two. Screams filled the cavernous car park, and Llewellyn's face was smiling broadly at the sound. 

He ran out of steam, turned around, and his feet launched him for a return voyage along the same path, allowing him to dispose of the now scattering vampires that had tried to attack him from behind. Llewellyn, after 1500 years of fighting incredible odds, was able to dispose of a lot of the vampires that way.

He finally came to a stop, and turned to overview the carnage he had caused. Of the sixty-five vampires that had initially been present, only twenty survived. Of those twenty, only five were in fighting capacity. Llewellyn charged the five remaining threats. They died quickly. Llewellyn started looking for the three demons, yet found none.

"Damn party-poopers. Run before the fun starts," Llewellyn grunted. He sheathed his sword, and drew a stake in each hand. He quickly disposed of the remaining vampires, save for one. He grabbed the vampire, devoid of both arms and most of his torso, threw it onto a nearby reinforced-concrete pillar, and held it there.

"I am Dominus Necarum, and I want to know what was going on here. Tell me, and die, or don't tell me and I'll make sure you get the same treatment as Spike did," Llewellyn stated calmly. He was even smiling.

The vampire stammered. "I…eh…Glory…Dark Wizard," the vampire said, nodded fiercely, as if it had just told Llewellyn the winning lottery numbers for the next few years. 

"A Dark Wizard, huh?" Llewellyn said. He pressed harder. "Care to expand on that?"

"Luther," the vampire whispered. "Luther something. Plans. Attack Phoenix Force HQ next week to get Key… Luther. Dark Wizard. Unbelievable power."

"Luther Something, huh? Excuse me if I'm not impressed. Llewellyn's grip changed. Instead of holding the vampire, he was now pressing it into the pillar by pressing his lower arm into the creature's throat. Just hard enough for the vampire to feel it. "Now. Luther what?"

"Luther…" the vampire muttered. "Luther…Alhmanic?"

"Divine Luther?" Llewellyn asked, fighting to keep himself from laughing. "Try harder, meat bag."

The vampire shook its head fearfully. "Luther Alhmanic! I swear! I swear!"

Llewellyn sighed. "Fine. I'll believe you. But know this, meat bag. If you gave me wrong information, I _will_ hunt you down. Not even Hell itself will be a safe place from the Wrath of God!"

The vampire gulped, and nodded fearfully. He looked scared to death at Llewellyn, looking every bit as if he were wishing he had still a bladder, just so he could piss his pants. "Luther Alhmanic. I swear."

Llewellyn sighed, releasing the pressure on his arm. The vampire fell to the ground, after which Llewellyn staked it through the heart. 

"Dovron. Recall," Llewellyn whispered in his phone, sounding dead-tired and looking pale as a ghost all of a sudden. _I shouldn't have used my magic…_he thought, before falling asleep in the middle of transport.

Dovron recalled his commander-in-chief directly to his quarters, materializing him in his bed. Llewellyn woke up just long enough to whisper what he had found in the computer terminal on the nightstand. Gabriel, in charge of internal operations, immediately made sure that the appropriate people were notified. 

Llewellyn walked into the library of Phoenix Force, now housing his entire book collection. The secured library at Phoenix Force was secured even tighter than the Vaults in Paris had been, and as such was the ideal location to house the most dangerous pieces of literature humanity ahs ever known.

He found Esmeralda, Giles, and Xander going over the different volumes. Since everyone in Phoenix Force now used Latin as the primary language of communication, the ancient Latin texts posed no more problems for the young Immortal. 

"Anything on Luther Alhmanic?" Llewellyn asked. The three people shook their heads, sadly. "I thought so… since the name didn't ring any bells, it would've been really strange if you hand found something in my little collection."

"So, where do we go from here?" Esmeralda asked.

"I call the Watchers," Llewellyn said. "Maybe our informant has something."

The three nodded. "That's a good idea. Meanwhile, we'll go over the volumes that I brought with me. But, since the name doesn't sound familiar, I don't think this Luther will pose a problem."

"Giles, the strongest magic-users are the ones you know nothing about. After all, you knew nothing abut me, and I'm a wizardess. Well, sorceress when we met," Esmeralda told the ex-Watcher.

"You go research Giles' books. I'll go make a phone call," Llewellyn said, starting to turn to leave the room. He thought of something, and turned back to the three researchers. "By the way, where are Willow and Amy? Don't they normally join you on something like this? Ever since Willow found out she's a Fire-Water Sorceress, they've been obsessed with notes on other magic-users."

Esmeralda shrugged. "I don't know. They're probably out with Crevan somewhere. Those three are turning into quite the team."

Llewellyn smiled, and nodded. "Yeah. Well, whatever makes them happy. Anyway, I'll go make those calls."

The three nodded again, and Llewellyn left the room. He walked straight to the command center, and disappeared into his 'office', a room designated as the office of the commander-in-chief, but in actuality more used as a general office, where people went when they had to make a private call. Llewellyn preferred to keep doing his business with the rest of the men. It increased morale.

Llewellyn turned the flat-screen computer towards the comfortable leather chair, and sat down. After fiddling with the chair's adjustments for a little, he took the phone, and dialed a British number. He let the phone ring six times, and hung up. He looked at the computer screen, where he had pulled up a digital clock.

After waiting exactly thirty seconds, Llewellyn pressed 'redial'. This time, the phone was answered almost immediately. 

"This is Lew. I need help," Llewellyn opened the conversation. 

"With what?" a female voice replied.

"Luther Alhmanic. Rumor has it that he's aligned himself with Glorificus." 

"Give me a couple…Hey! This room is private! HEY! What are you…Hey! Those files are priva-" the voice was cut off with a horrible gurgling sound, followed by what sounded like a gun discharging. Llewellyn jumped up from the chair at the sound, not even realizing he was doing it himself.

"Your little spy is no longer available, Mr. Morgan," a cultured British masculine voice told Llewellyn. "I would suggest that you try to find a new source of information, outside the council of Watchers, since we have also apprehended your other spies."

Llewellyn's body was trembling in suppressed rage, his eyes looking as if they could shoot fire. His hand reached out, and tapped a few keys on the terminal. The screen changed, displaying a world map. _Echelon protection engaged. _ The screen read. His voice was perfectly calm when he replied, "Really? And who might that be?"

"Well, in addition to Miss Hartwell here, we have also found a Mister Duchamps in France, and a Misses Consiglione in Italy. And yes, we're quite sure those are the only ones."

"They're not," Llewellyn replied, lying through his teeth. Inwardly, he mourned the passing of his contacts, and cursed himself for ever involving them into this. "But I really do appreciate you saving me the money of trying to reach them."

The voice chuckled. "You are a cold bastard, Morgan. Too bad about your attitude problem, or you could have worked in our Special Forces team."

Llewellyn sat down. His posture suddenly seemed relaxed. His voice wasn't. Laced with venom and frozen nitrogen, he answered, "I suggest you put them on high alert. We will be coming. Good day." Llewellyn threw the phone shut, and turned to the desktop. He cancelled the echelon protection on the phone. The Immortal closed his eyes, and took deep breaths to calm his body.

He got up, and walked out of the office. "Patricia," he said. Everyone who could stop what they were doing, did. That one word told everyone that they would be feeling sorry for someone really, really soon. 

"Yes, sir?" Patricia asked, not daring to show any kind of emotion. 

"I want you to prepare an assault," Llewellyn stated flatly. "By the Scooby Gang and Team Dragon Wing."

Patricia's eyes bulged out. "Yes, sir. What's the target, sir?" 

"Watcher's Council Headquarters, near Sussex, Great Britain. Get the Combined Strike Force together in War Room Alpha. Yesterday," Llewellyn said, already walking towards the elevator. Normally, the curt sentences would have been curt orders, if stated in any other tone. Now they were directives, to be followed to the letter. Patricia grabbed her phone, and started dialing. Various other people, not too busy at the moment, started helping her.

Llewellyn banged the door in the War Room shut, and started typing the keyboard of the computer connected to the large projector. Esmeralda, Xander, and Giles were the first ones in, since they were already in the building.

"Alright, where's the Apocalypse, and what are we going to do about it?" Xander asked, sitting down in one of the chairs while the others sat down as well.

"When everyone's here," Llewellyn said, voice cold. Xander's mouth opened, then snapped shut. He hadn't heard Llewellyn speak like that very often. Every time he did… someone was to be pitied. 

The next ones in were Crevan, Willow, and Amy, ported in by one of the two sorceresses. "When everyone's here," Xander said when Crevan started to ask a question. Seeing no special response form his teacher, Crevan shrugged at the two girls, and the threesome sat down.

The next ones were Duncan MacLeod, member of Team Dragon Wing, Chulak, Immortal Fire Sorcerer of Team Dragon Wing, and Maximus Decimus Meridius, Team Leader of Team Dragon Wing. Maximus threw one look at Llewellyn, and sat down, not even bothering to ask a question. Chulak was a dark-skinned man, stuck in his mid-thirties, about two meters tall, making him taller than Llewellyn, and dressed totally in a black robe with red borders. He had a hood thrown over his head, his favorite clothing. Maximus was a Roman Immortal, two thousand years old, but appearing no older than forty-five. His expertise in warfare had earned him the leadership of Team Dragon Wing. 

Kendra, Faith, and Buffy were next, completing the Scooby Gang. Barely thirty seconds after the three Slayers, a redheaded Immortal called Serena and a blonde Immortal called Fellistina barged in. both female Immortals appeared to be in their early thirties. Neither considered 'stunning', they had an appearance that was a major trait for Immortals: normal. They would fit in anywhere.

Llewellyn looked up only now. 

"Okay, what in _INFERUS _is going on?" Maximus shouted.

"Ladies. Gentlemen. Our contacts in the Council of Watchers are dead," Llewellyn said, dropping the bomb as he walked to the front of the room.

"_What?_" Crevan asked.

"They were killed by the Council itself," Llewellyn continued. "So, I propose a raid."

The Scooby gang and Team Dragon Wing looked form their own members to the members of the other team, and nodded at the same time.

"Where and when?" Maximus asked.

"Here. Now," was the simple reply.

"Battle plans coming up," Esmeralda said, eerily cheerful. She always sounded eerily cheerful when she was about to drop in uninvited on some enemies. 

"Agreed," Chulak added, and closed his eyes. An Immortal Summoner-Sorceress, an Immortal Fire-water Sorceress, an Immortal Fire Sorcerer, and an Immortal Air-Earth Wizardess closed their eyes. Sheets of papers started appearing in mid-air above the table Llewellyn was standing behind. In less than twenty seconds, the entire compound was mapped, magical defenses identified, traps registered and marked, and counter-spells readied for magical offenses and defenses. 

Maximus was by now standing next to Llewellyn. "Doesn't seem to be that hard," the Roman said. "The magical defenses are no match for our forces, and various tactical advantages can be achieved."

The two teams went over the plans, drawing out an entire plan for battle in less than thirty minutes. Contingency plans included. 

"Alright, that's it, people," Llewellyn said, looking up from the plans. "Now, one final thing before we go. The reason I gathered you all here is very simple. You are the very best of the very best of the very best. I want killing limited to an absolute minimum. Use tranquilizers, break some bones if you have to, and keep your sword-use to non-lethal. No matter what kind of killing bastards they are, they're still on the side of good."

"Stop making excuses," Crevan said. "You want them to know _what_ we're capable of, and they won't know it if they're dead."

Llewellyn smirked. "Whatever reason you want to give it, I don't want them dead. Hurt, yes. Hurt good, only if needed. Killed, only when absolutely necessary."

"Yes, sir!" the assembled group barked, snapping at attention so in sync it would make the toughest drill sergeant proud. 

"Ladies, gentlemen, ready your weapons!" 

The soft whisper of unsheathing katanas accompanied the group drawing weapons, while Esmeralda and Chulak just readied some magical energy. "Let's do this." 

Esmeralda snapped her fingers at the exact same time as Chulak jerked his hands. The Strike Force vanished. 

And reappeared in a field, in front of a large building. 

"Breach 'em," Llewellyn whispered. Esmeralda raised her hands. So did Chulak, Amy, and Willow. 

"One. Two. Three," Esmeralda counted. As the most powerful magic-user, she had command. Purple beams of energy lashed out from her hands, striking at the building's shields. They crumbled within seconds.

At the same time, Amy, Willow, and Chulak had closed their eyes and were weaving their own magic through the second level of shielding, designed to trick magic-users. The second shield crumbled ten seconds after the first one. They literally crumbled, an orange glow became visible around the building, a glow that suddenly sported dark-orange fault lines, before the 'glow' seemed to fall to the ground, where it shattered and disappeared. 

"Shields breached," Esmeralda reported. Llewellyn smiled, and nodded.

"Second wave. Commence. You know your targets. Engage."

The people disappeared once again, only to reappear in various places in the building.

Llewellyn, Giles, Buffy, Kendra, and Faith appeared in the main library. While Llewellyn and Buffy guarded the entrance to the room, Giles, Kendra and Faith pushed the bookcases closer together, making them easier to transport. Kendra and Faith's Slayer strength helped them a lot in this regard.

"Done, sir," Kendra told Llewellyn five minutes later.

Esmeralda, Chulak, Crevan, Xander, Amy and Willow appeared in front of the magical vaults, heavily shielded to protect the potent magical items stored inside it. The two strongest magic-users lifted their arms, and four beams of energy merged into two beams, lashing out at the magic-door. One beam was purple, while the other was a bright red in color.

The door was breached within fifteen seconds. The two magic-users barged into the room, followed by Xander, and Crevan and his two girls as back-up. Immediately, a dozen Special Forces of the Watcher's Council attacked. Esmeralda closed her eyes for just a second. 

"Desiit," the Wizardess whispered, looking at the attacking group of men with a fierce menace in her eyes. _Cease! _The men froze on the spot, unable to move, a purple haze surrounding their bodies. 

"Immobilization spell," Esmeralda explained. "Come on, let's do our jobs."

Five minutes later, the various vaults had been opened. Esmeralda, Chulak, Willow, and Amy concentrated. The Council had an overwhelming amount of dangerous artifacts. So overwhelming, in fact, that Amy and Willow had joined in to transport them all safely to Phoenix Force, where they could be processed, and, if needed, destroyed. Magical items could be very unstable, and it required every bit of the magic-users' power to transport each object safely. 

Team Dragon Wing had been transported together, as a unit, with only Chulak missing. They found themselves in the main entrance hallway, but completely at the back of the building. They ran forward, knowing exactly where to go. They halted in front of a door, Serena and Fellistina pressed their backs to the wall on the left and right of the door, Duncan stood a little to the back, and Maximus stood directly in front of the door. He kicked it in, and sprang forward immediately. The rest followed in this order: first Duncan shot after his Team leader, before Serena and finally, Fellistina. 

The room they barged into was the main meeting hall of the Council of Watchers. All of the normal Watchers present in the building had gathered there as soon as the attack on their shields had begun. Only the Special Forces were in the hallways, allowing them more leeway to fight the intruders. 

Team Dragon Wing barged in.

"Alright, people!" Maximus shouted. "I am Maximus Decimus Meridius, commander of the Roman Armies of the North, General of the Felix Legions, and I now fight for the fighting forces of Phoenix Force! Right this moment, the rest of our people are securing your files, diaries, libraries and any magical items you may have in your possession. After that, we will let you go. How much you are banged up is entirely up to you. Resist, and you will be hurt. Cooperate, and you will not be harmed… much. Personally, I would like you to resist. I have no problem with disposing of you… _people_." Maximus barked out the word 'people', as if choking on it. 

"I am Sir Charles Lucas III. I am the head of the Council of Watchers," a man said, standing up. He was in his mid-fifties and radiated the presence of an English Lord. "I must protest to this treatment of our institution. The Council of Watchers has been for centuries, guiding the Slayer-"

Maximus drew his gun, and fired. Unfortunately, or fortunately, depending on your view, he had forgotten to replace his incendiary rounds with normal ones. The shot went straight in _Sir Charles'_ heart, where it ignited, and burned a hole the size of a soccer ball in his chest. In other words, he was practically cut in half. 

"Anyone else?" he asked amicably, scanning the room. The other Watchers looked shocked at the Roman, but kept their mouths shut. He sighed. "Party-poopers," he said, as an afterthought. He turned to the rest of his team. "Okay, people! Fellistina, you stay here with me. Duncan, Serena, you two go have fun with the assholes in the hallways." 

Fellistina nodded, while Duncan and Serena snapped at attention, said, "Aye, sir," and left the room. There were a couple hundred Watchers gathered in the aula, yet Maximus had no trouble keeping order. After two millennia of expertise in commanding troops, his presence radiated command. And radiating command from a time when disobedience meant a long and painful death… if you were lucky. The watchers, most, if not all of them, had been trained to help a Slayer in fighting vampires. They outnumbered the small contingent at least a hundred and fifty to one. Yet they remained in their seats. The callus disposal of Sir Charles had shown them that Maximus wasn't kidding. 

Fifteen minutes later, the forces started to gather in the aula, their respective duties coming to an end. 

"The books are safely at Phoenix Force. So are the magical items," Llewellyn said, eying the corpse of Sir Charles. 

"He resisted," Maximus explained. "There was no other way."

Llewellyn knew better. He also knew better than to complain. After all, it was the only casualty. He gave a curt nod. "So, anything else we're here for?"

The group shook their heads. Llewellyn nodded, and took the stand. "We have taken that which should have been given to us in the first place. The Watcher's Council is obsolete, and should have done the right and honorable thing by transferring its resources over to us, who are the next generation in fighting forces. Since you failed to do so, we have been forced to claim that which was rightfully ours, and in doing so, forced us to fight against people who are supposed to be comrades in arms. That is the bigger crime that happened here, the stubborn refusal of the Watcher's Council, and the violence it brought into being. Not the deaths of three members of the Council, nor the deaths of three of our members who supplied us with Watcher-information, but the senseless violence in what is supposed to be one army of light."

A couple Strike Force members shot Llewellyn a strange look.

An especially brave Watcher stood up. "Excuse me, sir. If you'll allow me a question?"

"I just did," Llewellyn said, smirking. "But, I'll give you a second one. Make it count, Watcher Pinno Rossa from Rome, Italy."

The Watcher's jaw fell momentarily. "Yes, I know most of you. I studied your files before going on this raid. Now, your question?"

"You said 'three deaths' in our ranks. I would like to know who else, besides our esteemed chairman, Sir Charles, has changed temporary for the eternal." 

Llewellyn glanced around to his people. "Who else killed someone?" he asked. The assembled Strike Force members shrugged, looking at each other. 

"Great. Well, fair is fair. You killed three of our members. We should kill three of yours." He took his gun, shot the man on the left of Pinno Rossa, and the woman on his right. "There. Now we're even," Llewellyn said, smiling. Uncomfortable, fearful, shuffling of feet was audible in the room. He stepped down form the stand, and joined his troops. "Now, since we have everything, we'll be off. Enjoy your new role."

The group popped out in its entirety. Two seconds later, Llewellyn popped back in. "By the way, from now on, we'll be training any future Slayers. Just thought I'd let you know. As one army of light to another." Llewellyn popped out again. The Watchers stared at the empty air as if a seven-headed dragon could materialize at any moment.

"So, can you do it?" Glory asked a diminutive man with deep-black hair and beard. 

"I am Luther Alhmanic. I can do all," the small man stated proudly, puffing up his chest. 

Glory laughed, and told the small man, "I like you. You're confident. I like that." Then, she grew deadly serious, a sight that was as uncommon as it was frightening. "But I wouldn't be overconfident here. These _people_ are the best. They have a wizardess rumored to be stronger than Merlin ever was, and they have some very old and very powerful warriors on their side."

"Humph," Luther said, shrugging. "They are no match for Luther."

Glory's face became dark, and she started walking in circles around the small man, glaring at him. "They have Dominus Necarum, Arcanus Bellator, _and _Vires Invictus!"

Luther's mouth opened slightly, and a slightly fearful look entered his eyes. "The Slayer's Master, the Secret Warrior and the Invincible Powers united? By Mephistopheles, King of Hell!"

Glory barked out a short laugh. "That's not all! They fight in a team, consisting of _three_ Immortal Slayers, an Immortal Fire-Water Sorceress, an Immortal Summoner-Sorceress, an Immortal Wild-Mage, and an Immortal Watcher!"

Now Luther's mouth opened even further. "Just them, or will we be facing more?" he asked finally. 

Glory barked her short laugh again. "They have an entire group of elite humans fighting for them! They've got at least a couple dozen magic-users! I wouldn't know how many fighting forces they have. Their numbers increase almost daily. They even have The Gladiator as commander of one of their teams! With Chulak! And Duncan MacLeod!"

"By Mephistopheles… can this get any worse?" Luther whispered. 

"Sucks, huh?" Glory asked sarcastically.

"I'll summon help," Luther decided. "I'll call every Familiar I can lay my hands on. And as Dark Wizard, I've met my share of the dark and greedy who would be willing to help out for a price."

Glory laughed, a dark and evil sound that reverberated through the room. "Money and power is no problem. I'll have the Forces of Hell backing me if this goes down right."

Luther smiled, and nodded. "I'll start calling in reinforcements. And then we'll start summoning some Familiars. I'm sure that a couple dozen harpies can help out."

Glory raised one eyebrow. "If I wouldn't know any better, I'd say you're enjoying this," she asked eerily cheerful.

"That's because I am," Luther replied. "I've been waiting for this opportunity to get back at those goody two-shoes for quite some time. And now, with your backing…"

"You have your chance for revenge," Glory finished on a level tone. Cheerfully, she continued, "Good! I so love someone with convictions! And revenge is a good motivator!"

Luther dipped his head, smiling slightly. "I'll make sure that they'll feel every moment of the death they have avoided for so long. I'll _feast_ on their blackened bones!!"

Glory smiled widely, clapping her hands. "Good!" she said joyfully. "So, how long before we go crash their party?"

The small Dark Wizard shrugged. "Give me a week. One week should be enough to summon the Pit Fiends themselves into our ranks!"

Glory whistled, impressed. "How many of them?" she wanted to know.

"A dozen, maybe two. Depends on who of the dark, greedy, and vengeful I can get," Luther answered casually. "If I can get the Triumvirate into this little bout, Phoenix Force's days are numbered."

"Triumvirate?" Glory asked, mystified.

Luther nodded, and seemed to gather his thoughts. "The Triumvirate is a council of three magic-users. They operate from the sunken capital Poseidopolis."

"From Atlantis?" Glory asked, sounding stunned. 

Luther nodded. "Each has power comparable to Merlin, or Vires Invictus. Together, united, their Dark Power rivals Heaven and Hell."

Glory whistled again, before asking seriously, "If they're that strong, why haven't they undone Heaven's Creation already?"

"That's the problem. They have to be united. Most of the time, they fight like little children. Why do you think Atlantis sank? Anyway, let me tell you a little about this Triumvirate. First one is a guy named Ignis, Fire. He's a Dark Fire Wizard. Then there's a gal named Aqua. She's a Dark Water Wizardess. And then…then there's the strongest of the three. A robed figure. No one doesn't know if it's a man, woman, beast or demon. It's an Air-Earth Dark Wizard, with no name. Everyone, those lucky enough to survive meeting him, that is, just call him 'Death'."

"Okay. And why are they fighting on the bottom of the Atlantic? If they're so powerful, why don't they come out?" Glory asked skeptically.

"There is an anti-magic net spun over Old Atlantis. They can't get out, but the rest of us can pass through without problems," Luther explained. "The net was placed there by the Lord of Magicians, Lord Marduk Himself, the plan is to breach the shield, and since Dominus Necarum is Marduk's High Priest…"

"…in exchange for the destruction of Phoenix Force!" Glory cheered. Laughing insanely, she wanted to start dancing. Finally, she composed herself, and looked at Luther. "What?" she asked, looking around to see what could cause him to smirk. "And what are you still doing here? Don't you have a zero-magic net to breach?"

Luther bowed. "Very true. I'll see you in a week, Glorificus."

"One week," Glory told the vanishing form.

A couple of days later, somewhere on the bottom of the Atlantic Ocean, a sole figure was slowly making his way across the bottom, looking for something in the eerie glow provided by a flaming oval shield surrounding his body. Finally, the figure halted in front of a stone that was inscribed by ancient Sumerian signs. 

The figure extended his hands. "I, Luther Alhmanic, Dark Wizard, Bearer of the Sacred Charm of Grecchus, desire access to Atlantis!"

The stone glowed brightly, and the figure vanished from the sea-bottom. He reappeared on dry land, near a Greek-looking city. The shield vanishing, finally showing the mysterious form inside it. 

"I, Luther Alhmanic, summon the Triumvirate!" Luther bellowed, raising his arms into the air. The blue sky in this mystical land darkened, and lightning preceded thunderclaps that threatened to deafen the Dark Wizard.

The ground started shaking, and Luther struggled to keep his footing on the floor that was dancing up and down like a ship dances over storm-strength waves. Luther gulped. _By Mephistopheles, King of the Underworld… I think I might join you, soon…_ Luther thought as the freak magic-storm increased in strength, this time by throwing in ferocious storm winds.

Then, the storm ebbed away from Luther, a dome expanding around the casting Wizard. When it was a hundred meters across, a table appeared. Three figures were seated at it. On the far left sat Ignis, the Fire Wizard. On the right sat Aqua, Water Wizardess. And in the middle sat the robed figure known only as 'Death', the Air-Earth Wizard. 

"What desirest thou from us?" Death bellowed, his voice seeming to come from everywhere, and its volume bombarded Luther's eardrums, threatening to shatter them. 

"I wish to Unite the Triumvirate in search of a deal," Luther said, hoping, praying, that his voice wasn't shaking as bad as his knees were. 

"What kind of deal?" Aqua's silky-smooth voice asked. 

"I wish to breach the shield that holds you imprisoned within Old Atlantis," Luther said.

"In exchange for what?" Fire asked. 

"We hath entertained many an imposter," Death warned. "And they hath entertained us."

Luther gulped. "I am serious. I have the backup needed to breach the shield wall… outside magic has influence on it, while inside magic has not."

"We know this," Aqua said, her smooth voice rising a little in volume. _Shit! She's angry!_ Luther's mind shouted, and he wanted to piss his pants, if only it wouldn't make a mess of his pants and of the ancient marble floor he was standing on. "And you still haven't told us what you want in return."

"I wish to destroy an army of Light, known as Phoenix Force," Luther stated. "I would ask you to assist in this effort."

"Most do not free us out of fear of what we might do. What is this Phoenix Force, if you would let us free into the world once again?" Fire asked.

Luther took a deep breath. "Commander-in-chief of Phoenix Force is Llewellyn Demonhunter, otherwise known as…"

"Dominus Necarum," Death hissed.

"High Priest of the Lord of al Magicians," Aqua grunted, her beautifully smooth voice laced with a venomous rage the likes of which Luther had never heard before.

"That is not all…" Luther ventured. 

"SPEAK!" Bellowed Death and Fire at the same time. 

"Arcanus Bellator. Vires Invictus. Three Immortal Slayers. An Immortal Wild-Mage. An Immortal Watcher. Dovron the Sorcerer. Chulak the Sorcerer. The Gladiator-General of Ancient Rome. Many others."

With each new listing, the Triumvirate seemed to become more agitated. When Luther told about Maximus, the entire Triumvirate veered up. That was when Luther knew to shut up. 

"Thou hast a deal," Death stated. "As soon as thou breached the shield, we shall assist in whatever way in conquering of this Phoenix Force."

Luther smiled. "Thank you, Oh Wise Ones. I am sure Glorificus will be pleased."

"GLORIFICUS?" Fire shouted. 

"THOU WORKETH FOR THE BANISHED GODDESS OF HELL?" Death bellowed.

Luther gulped. _Oh, shit…_

Aqua smiled. "Tell Glorificus that the Triumvirate will join her noble cause."

Luther's mind short-circuited. He stared from one member to the other. "Wha…"

"Why hast thou not stated thine employer?" Death asked. "The Noble Glorificus will always have a noble ally in the Triumvirate."

Luther gulped, and took a deep breath. "I apologize, Great Ones. I did not think it of that great an importance…"

Fire waved his hand. "How soon can you breach the shield?"

"Forty-eight hours, at the most," Luther said. "We're raising all the Harpies we can get…"

"Thou will have Pit Fiends for assistance," Death assured Luther. "Desist in the creation of weak Familiars. The Triumvirate will summon some REAL help."

Luther nodded weakly. "Twenty-four hours, My Lords. I will be able to breach the shields in twenty-four hours, tops."

The three people behind the table nodded. "We will be waiting," Aqua said in her flowing, beautiful, voice.

"But, if thou double-crosseth us…" Death stated flatly.

"I most definitely am not!" Luther said, insulted. 

"A Dark Wizard with a sense of honor," Fire said, sounding amused. 

"What hath the world turned to?" Death asked.

"I will take my leave now, Noble Ones. I must start the breaching immediately," Luther said, trying to keep his voice from shaking too much with excitement and residual fear. 

Four beings materialize just over a hill, not far from the Phoenix Force building in the California desert, ten kilometers outside Sunnydale. Calmly, the four walk up the hill.

"Just as I said, Noble Ones, this building is protected by the-" Luther began.

"It will take considerable force to breach," Fire stated flatly.

Aqua nodded. "These spells are among the strongest in existence, and they have been ingrained in the very materials the building was constructed out of."

Death took a deep breath, and looked up at the stars. "It shall prove no challenge. It shall be draining, yet unchallenging."

Fire turned to Death, and shouted angrily "Are you suggesting a brute-force attack? On those kind of protections? Are you insane!?"

Death looked down at the building. Suddenly, his right hand shot out, and a bolt of red energy blasted towards Fire, throwing him backwards. "Do not call me insane."

Fire got up, growling like an enraged animal, and readying his offensive and defensive spells. Luther, seeing that things were about to get out of hand, stepped in between the two fighting wizards. "Please, noble Ones… this is not a time to fight. We should be united against a common enemy!"

Fire growled at Luther, and Death too, turned towards the lesser wizard. "Doest thou have a death-wish?" Death asked. 

Luther grew pale, and started shaking. "I…eh…Maybe they can see if we're fighting… you know, magic-detectors, an such…"

"I do not fear them," Death rumbled. 

"Neither do I!" Fire shouted, now fully erect, and his spells readied. 

"But we should wait for the final assault! If they find us out now, they'll be prepared!" Luther protested. 

"Or dead," Death added. He turned back towards the building, and lifted his hand. 

Aqua put her hand on his arm. "Luther is right. Maybe we should wait. Rome wasn't conquered in one day."

Death turned to look at the smaller woman, before slowly dropping his arm. "Thou hast a point." 

"We should return," Luther said. "And report to Glory."

Death nodded again, and waved his hands. The foursome disappeared, only to reappear in Glory's secret hideout. As they had become to expect from her, Glory was training. She was fighting half a dozen demons two times her own size, demons that looked as if they ate Slayers for breakfast, and Immortal Slayers for lunch, every day.

"Report?" Glory asked, not interrupting her workout. She jumped over the sweep-kick from one of the demons, while smashing her elbow in the face of a second demon.

"Breaching the shields will be a massive expenditure of energy, Oh Glorificus," Fire said. 

"Our Pit Fiends shall be the main force. We require time to breach the defenses, and our energy will be severely drained when the shields finally are breached," Aqua added in.

"How long?" Glory asked, sweeping the feet from under a demon, while grabbing yet another one in the neither regions. A fleshly ripping sound was audible, followed by an inhuman howl of sheer pain and terror. Neither Glory nor the four wizards paid any attention. 

"Ten minutes," Death stated flatly.

Glory nodded, ripping the head of a relatively unharmed demon with her bare hands. She threw the head at yet another demon, who dodged. Glory took the lapse in attention to smash her hand into his gut, and ripping out his intestines. Using the black-bloody gut as rope, she then somersaulted over the demon's head, and started choking him with it. A second demon attacked, and Glory used her inhuman speed to trap the second demon in the same gut. The two demons choked to death. Slowly, since the gut wasn't as air-sealing as normal rope was. 

She started laughing. "I literally hung him from his own guts," she laughed. "I used to threaten people with it… never actually tried it." She turned to the four wizards. "We'll have to time our distraction forces so Phoenix Force will be kept busy for those ten minutes."

Death dipped his head in agreement. Glory yelled for her servant while wiping her hands off on the clothes of the two surviving demons. Her servant came in, praising her excessively.

"How many vampires do we have?" Glory asked curtly. 

"About three thousand, O Glorious Majesty."

Glory nodded. "Raise another five hundred by the day after tomorrow. The main force will be just me, the Triumvirate, Luther, one hundred Pit Fiends, and the five hundred best trained vampires in our army. Those five hundred newbies have to be in the distraction forces."

"Of course, your Glorious magnificence." Glory made a dismissive hand sign, and the demon-servant left. 

"A wise precaution," Death stated. "Rome did not fall in a single day."

"Don't you have some Pit Fiends to raise? Or spells to make ready?" Glory asked, crashing the heads of the two demons together with such force that their heads exploded, sending blood, brains, and chips of skull all over the place. The one demon that was groaning and moaning on the floor was killed when Glory crushed his head under her boot. 

"Of course," Death said, dipping his head. With a single hand-motion, the foursome disappeared, leaving Glory to stare at the mess she had made. She yelled for her servant. 

"Are we ready?" Glory asked the four wizards.

"Three thousand vampires in 60 attack teams, ready to engage targets ranging from orphanages, to hospitals, to retirement homes and homes for the handicapped," Luther reported. 

Glory wanted to bounce up and down, and clap her hands in excitement. "Their Achilles heel! Phoenix Force will send out their teams to stop the vampires, and meanwhile, we can…"

"Beat the living crap out of their headquarters," Fire concluded for her. "There are two hundred forty-one Pit Fiends at our disposal, as well as five hundred twelve vampires aging three hundred and over."

Glory laughed, an eerily cheerful laugh. "Tonight I get my Key!" she shouted. "Forces of Goodness, prepare for Glorificus, Demon spawn, and Goddess of Hell! She is coming for what is rightfully hers!"

"We have also secured this," Aqua told Glory as soon as she finished her speech. Aqua pointed to several large crates. 

"Really? What's in them?" Glory asked.

"Those are the latest model rocket launcher. We stole about two hundred of them. We could've summoned ten times more, but we were busy with the Pit Fiends."

Glory smiled. "Give them to the Pit Fiends. It'll give Phoenix Force something to think about while we're going after their shields."

Aqua dipped her head in response, and waved her hand. The crates disappeared. A roaring howl of what seemed to be pleasure reverberated through Glory's secret hideout. "It seems that the Fiends enjoy their present," Luther said.

"Let's hope Phoenix Force enjoys it just as much," Glory replied, a comment that made her four companions nod in agreement. 

"Let's get this show on the road, then," Glory said. 

The four wizards started waving their hands. "All our forces are deployed," Death reported. He snapped his fingers, and a black orb materialized, floating at eye-level in mid-air. 

In Phoenix Force, all Hell broke lose. 

"Shit! Massive attack in Rome! Fifty vampires storming an orphanage. We're lucky our Rome-agent detected it!" Patricia shouted, entering the information into her computer. "Scramble Vulture Squad, they're on call."

A second operator, by the name of Ben, shouted within two seconds, "Attack on retirement home in Brussels, Belgium!"

"Attack in Hamburg!" a third operator shouted. 

"Bavaria!"

"London!"

"Glasgow!"

"Edinburgh!"

Patricia's fingers raced the keyboard in front of her. The global map lit up with lots of red spots, as more and more calls came in. she grabbed her phone. "Armageddon!" she shouted. 

The other operators didn't even bother to look surprised. _Armageddon_ was a code that was rarely invoked, a code that summoned all Phoenix Force people directly to headquarters. All other engagements were negated. Half a dozen operators streamed into the command center, taking the empty places after throwing a single look at the main screen. None asked questions, and just raced to business. 

Llewellyn raced through the door. He threw one look at the screen, and for a few seconds, actually stared at the screen. "How many?"

"Forty-five different engagements reported so far," Patricia replied, entering another location to the map as the report came in through her headset.

Llewellyn just nodded, and took the station at the very back of the room, enabling him to call the rest of the information as he needed it. "Fifty engagements already. Two thousand five hundred vampires. All on non-strategic targets that they knew we would want to defend… children, old people, the sick, the disabled." Llewellyn's fist hit the armrest. "Damn!" he grunted. "Fifty-five engagements. All teams are sent out. We have no one…"

"Supreme Armageddon!" Llewellyn yelled. Patricia nodded, and started yelling in her headset. _Supreme Armageddon_ was a code that hadn't been necessary yet. It enabled all Immortals of a certain age or of a certain ability to go off and take an entire assignment by him/herself. It was entirely up to the discretion of the operative whether or not he/she used the code.

"I'm taking Hamburg," Llewellyn shouted, racing to the Gate Room. He never made it there, whisked away by some magic-user who had remained behind to play taxi-service. 

Fifty vampires. Llewellyn knew that fifty vampires would be no match for him. His only concern was time. Would he be able to stop this attack, and would he be able to do it in time? Glory had never placed an attack this big before, and Llewellyn feared the defenselessness of the building. With all the teams gone, the support troops only had the magical defenses to keep them safe. Llewellyn took a deep breath. His thoughts sank with the flashing on his sword and the racing of his feet. 

_Em's defenses had better be as good as she says they are._

_This is Recon-one. Massive dimensional transports detected! _The black orb reported. 

"Now is the time," Glory decided. "Gentlemen, transport us!"

Death jerked his hands. Four Dark Wizards, two hundred forty-one Pit Fiends, armed with rocket launchers, and one Goddess of Hell vanished form the secret hide-out, only to appear ready to breach the defenses at Phoenix Force headquarters.

The five leaders stepped up onto the dune, looking down at the building and its surrounding premises. The four wizards raised their hands.

"Elemental storm!" Luther shouted. Lighting crashed through the clear sky, before cracking down. A purple-colored dome-shaped shield kept the weird amber-colored lighting from doing any damage.

"Meteor Strike!" Fire shouted, adding huge fireballs crashing down from above to Luther's weird amber lightning. The shields' color intensified, yet it didn't waver.

"My turn," Aqua whispered. Her hands and arms spread, she shouted over the inferno, "I summon the destructive spirits of the element water!" bluish-gray strings of energy rose up from the air, spiraling around the water-wizard like a vortex. "From the icy waters of the Far North and the Deep South, I summon thee! From the boiling waters surrounding the active volcanoes, I summon thee! Unleash thine wrath! NOW!" The energy ribbons changed directions, from flowing from the ground to her, they now _jetted_ from her hands to the dome-shield below. The shields' opaque purple had now turned a shiny metallic purple, almost completely obscuring the building it was protecting. 

"Thou did well, Aqua!" Death bellowed. He raised his hands. "I summon the Unholy Alliance of Air and Earth! From the Dawn of Time, people hath feared thee! Now it is time that the world will tremble before thine might once more! I, Surushna Secundar, only remaining member of the Demons of Magical Might, summon thee! Bring forth the wrath of an entire race destroyed by Marduk! Bring forth the wrath of eons of imprisonment! Unleash thine wrath and thine fury! NOW!"

Glory smiled evilly when the ground started to shake, and the wind speeds picked up. It wasn't long before the wind had reached hurricane velocities, sweeping up grains of sand and boulders alike. Boulders that appeared out of the fissures the trembling Earth created. The shield started to pulse as the grains of sand, propelled almost as fast as a speeding bullet, kept hitting it. The boulders, bugger, meaner, but not as fast, made the shield tremble. 

"We're getting close!" Glory shouted over the howling wind. "It's wavering!"

"I, Fire, Lord of the Destructive Element, summon its wrath!" Fire shouted, pushing his hands together, and thrusting forward, towards the building. A deep blood-red beam of fury started at his shoulders, raced along his outstretched arms, and blasted towards the building. The shields groaned, started to retreat slowly in a valiant effort to get more energy available for less shielding. 

Finally, after another two minutes of slow retreat, the shield collapsed with a final groan. Immediately, the elements of nature returned to their normal state, the inky darkness lifting away to a clear day. Glory immediately turned to the Pit Fiends, in battle-order behind the dune. "Attack!" she shouted.

"No!" Death shouted. The Pit Fiends wavered. "We have yet to exorcise the grounds!" 

Glory sighed, stamping her foot on the ground. "Oh, come on!" she wailed, and turned to her companions. "Get on with it, then!"

Death, accompanied by the three other wizards, descended from the dune, and approached the gate. Death destroyed it with a single flick of his wrist. Or, at least, he tried. The gate groaned, bent backwards, but held fast, and returned to its place. 

"Magical construction materials," Death grunted. He placed his two bony hands on the gate, and ignored the steam that rose from the contact with the holy materials. He closed his eyes. "By the Forces of Darkness, I unhex thee. By the Darkness of the Moon, I dispel thine Holy Bond. From the Depths of Hell, I command thee to open!" he shouted the last. The gate groaned, and blasted inward. As soon as the massive steel gate made contact with the concrete slab that made up the floor, it began to smoke, before bursting into flames in a blinding white light, and vaporizing. 

"Looks like the darkness really isn't invited," Fire stated, looking at the dark patch where the gate landed. 

"No kidding," Luther said. "I told you this place was secure."

Death took a deep breath. "Here we go," he said, raising his arms to shoulder-level. The others followed suit. A bullet-hole appeared in front of Death's feet, before it exploded into flames. The four wizards jumped back, and ported back to Glory's location for a regrouping.

"They've got snipers on the roof!" Luther shouted.

"Bad ones," Fire replied. "That bullet should have hit us."

"Does not matter. We just need a couple of minutes to unhex that concrete slab that runs up to the building. As soon as that's done, we can charge with the Pit Fiends. They'll keep everyone busy while we breach the perimeter defenses of the building itself."

"Now go!" Glory shouted, urging the four wizards back into action.

"Tutamen Magus!" the four shouted. _Magical defense!_ A blood-red glow spread across the four figures, before dying out. 

"That should protect us from the bullets," Luther said.

The three others nodded, and the four wizards soon ported back to the busted main entrance gate. They knelt down, and pressed their hands onto the concrete slab. The holy material made their hands burn, sending shots of pain through the four wizards' bodies. Purple steam rose from the contact. 

"By the Unholy Alliance Forged by Satan! By the Power from Ninnghizhidda, The Serpent of the Deep Abyss known as Tiamat, we exorcise thee!" A small tremor went through the ground, and the sky started to grow cloudy. "Allow us entrance! Shatter thine holy bonds, and break free! Allow us entrance! We invoke thee, Satan, Supreme Master of Hell!" The tremor was not so slight now, a minor earthquake rolling through the region. Clouds had by now obscured the sun, submerging the area in a twilight. Still, the chant continued, "We implore thee, Ninnghizhidda, Serpent of the Deep Abyss! Thee we invoke, Tiamat, scourge of the Elder Gods!" the earthquake had now reached level six on the Richter scale, the clouds had pulled away, and a total solar eclipse now cast an almost non-existent light on the area. "Thee we invoke, Satan, enemy of Heaven!! Help us!! Help us now!!" 

The purple steam rose in small bursts, as if the concrete floor was attempting to make up its mind. The earthquake was now of major power, at least an eight on the Richter scale, but still the casting wasn't done. "Ninnghizhidda! Satan! Thou greatest of all Supreme Evils! Thee we invoke! Thee we implore! Thee we BEG! Help us! Help us overcome this greatest of all threats! Helps us bring forth thine rule over the good and the living!!!"

The purple glowing concrete slab broke into smaller pieces, almost like gravel. The earthquake died down, and the eclipse…remained. The steam had ceased to rise, and the four wizards got back up on their feet. With a voice booming with magical enhancement, Death shouted to the building, "Thy defenses hath fallen! Thy walls are broken, thy floor shattered! Thou doest best in surrendering!"

In response, the snipers up on the roof opened fire on Death. Six bullets hit him. Four missed. Those six that hit did no damage. "Thy bullets can not hurt me! Thy time hath elapsed! Thou shalt now perish!" the four wizards disappeared, porting to Glory's location.

All four were breathing deeply to regain some stamina. "That was not easy, Oh Glorificus."

Glory smiled, and uttered a small laugh. "Doesn't really matter. Guys! Go get them!" she shouted over her shoulder, to the two hundred Pit Fiends and the five hundred vampires, which, thanks to the continuous eclipse, had no more trouble running around during the day. The army of the undead howled in devilish delight, and charged over the hill. The Pit Fiends, well over two meters tall, muscled like a body-builder, and with the speed and grace of a big cat, were armed with a rocket launcher. After they had shot their rockets, the only thing remaining for them to use were huge twin-bladed battle axes. 

The vampires, all at least three hundred years old, charged with weapons ranging from guns and rifles to swords. Average age among the vampires was four hundred fifty years. Being alive that long had taught them to survive, and it would be a cold day in hell if they didn't use that ability to its limits in this fight. None of them were going to just give up. 

They didn't fear Phoenix Force. 

The two hundred Pit Fiends armed with rocket launchers took their formations. The first line knelt to one knee. The second line stood, bent over, behind the first line. And the third line stood erect behind them. All two hundred rockets left at about the same time. The rockets, radar-guided, took the biggest target they could get their sensors on. Phoenix Force headquarters. 

A purple glow surrounded the building as it tried to safeguard its occupants against the high explosive devices, designed to pierce the crème de la crème of armored vehicles. The building managed to stay more or less intact, but cracks were visible, indicating that the building's shielding had been compromised in certain areas. It would slowly regenerate itself, given time. Time it did not have.

The army jumped up, discarding the empty launch tubes. The four wizards raised their arms high above their heads, destroying what remained of the fence. Now that they wouldn't have to force their way in through a small gate, the armies roared, and charged forward. Before they could get to the building, ten figures flashed into existence, right in the middle of the path the on storming army was taking toward the building.

Giles, Faith, Kendra, Buffy, Llewellyn, Crevan, Amy, Willow, Xander, Esmeralda. The Scooby Gang, All identifying markers present, had cleared five target sites before letting the others handle the vampire charge and come home to bail out headquarters. The entire team dropped their M-16s, empty because of the hordes of vampires they had shot.

"What in _hell_ happened here?" Esmeralda shouted, blasting the three nearest Pit Fiends with a purple bolt of magical energy. 

"Looks like they breached our out defenses," Llewellyn replied dryly, drawing his sword, and charged with a howling battle-cry. Buffy was right next to him. Faith, Kendra, Crevan, Xander, and Giles were right behind the two charging leaders. Willow and Amy staid back, with Esmeralda, shouting spells.

"Steam elemental!" Willow shouted. As Fire-water Sorceress, this was the strongest summon she could do. She summoned a second, and a third elemental. The three clouds of steam charged the on-racing Pit Fiends which made up the first line. 

"I summon the power of the Mighty Heavens and Destructive Volcanoes!" Amy chanted. Blobs of magma started falling from the sky, burning vampire and Pit Fiend alike. 

Esmeralda was floating a couple centimeters off the ground. Her hands were fists at her side, and her eyes were glowing a deep black. Her voice resonated strangely, chanting in ancient and forgotten languages. 

Suddenly, a dozen Pit Fiends in the front line turned around, and started attacking their ex-comrades. Esmeralda gave a wicked grin, and fell back to the ground. She raised her arms, and started blasting at the Pit Fiends once again.

"Their magic-users have entered the battlefield!" Luther shouted. "Damn!"

"Not for long!" Fire shouted. "Mass dispel!" a destructive wave of energy blasted over the battlefield, canceling Willow's Steam Elementals. Amy had long since had to give up summoning magma meteors, and had now settled for blasting holy bolts at her enemy. A lot less draining, but unfortunately, also a lot less damaging. She let out a yelp of surprise when her bolt vanished in mid-air.

The mind-controlled Pit Fiends stopped attacking, looked around dazedly, and then charged the Phoenix Force members anew. Llewellyn wanted to curse, and would have, if he hadn't been so engrossed in fighting multiple targets. He avoided being hit by one battle axe, and managed to drive his sword through the gut of the culprit who ahd tried to hit him. In doing so, he had to bend down in order to avoid being hit by the Pit Fiend next to the first one. Llewellyn drew his blade out of the first demon's gut, and sliced off the right leg of the second demon. A moment later, Llewellyn's sword went through the demon's eye, killing him.

Buffy, Faith, and Kendra were fighting. Three Slayers-versus-the-world style. The three Slayers, knowing and feeling each other's strengths instinctively, worked together as one. Three bodies, fighting in perfect unison, Three bodies, three minds, six arms, six legs,…one fighting soul. 

One Pit Fiend was killed, and by the time it hit the ground, two of his friends were killed as well, and under way to the ground. Xander, Giles, and Crevan just held mop-up duty, making sure that no one tried to take their friends from behind. Crevan protected Llewellyn's back, and he was doing just about as much killing as his teacher and best friend. Giles and Xander just stayed close to the three Slayers, trying to make sure that they weren't taken by surprise. Since it appeared that they weren't going to be, the two men decided on having some fun of their own, and started charging the, by now, dwindling supply of Pit Fiends.

"We'll have to interfere directly!" Fire shouted.

"Agreed," Aqua said, looking at Death.

"There is consensus," Death stated. The Triumvirate disappeared, only to flash into existence flying over the battlefield. They started attacking with bolts of magical energy, directed towards the front-line fighters of Phoenix Force. 

Xander seeing Buffy go down because of one of the bolts, looked upwards in anger. "NO! Buffy!" he shouted, rushing to her side while the other two slayers tried to keep the Pit Fiend-Vampire Horde from advancing. The older vampires were very skilled, and the Slayers had just lost one of their own.

"Buffy?" he asked. The Immortal Slayer groaned. It was the first time Xander had seen her hurt so badly… Sure, he had seen her be stabbed, clubbed, and so on. But he had never seen her burnt to a crisp because of a magical fireball.

Xander looked up at Llewellyn, to catch the Immortal casting a worried glance in Buffy's direction. Xander understood. Llewellyn had wanted to be here, but he couldn't leave Crevan's side. It was a matter of honor for the two Immortals. They would protect each other's back to the death. Xander raised his thumb towards Llewellyn, indicating Buffy would be alright.

Since her being hit, barely four seconds had passed. It seemed far longer to Xander and Llewellyn. Llewellyn, knowing that Buffy would be alright, started howling fiercely as he tore into the vampires and few remaining Pit Fiends. Xander looked up, at the three wizards, who were _laughing_ at the pained expression in his face. 

Xander sheathed his sword, and raised his hands. He shouted something. A fireball blasted towards the wizards, who simply dispelled it. Xander, pissed out of his mind now, shouted a minor Armageddon spell. Such a spell would drain him of his energy. He knew that. He understood the risks if this went haywire. 

The minor Armageddon fireball left the ground, and shot towards the three wizards. _Come on… hit!_ Xander prayed. The red ball turned white… _Shit! No!! please, God, keep it on track! Don't let it surge now!_ …the spell magnified in intensity… _Oh, shit! _… and changed directions… _NO!!_ Xander could _feel_ Esmeralda thinking the same thing. …and hit a hundred vampires in the rear. 

The three wizards looked at Xander, now panting, and virtually useless, and the burnt spot where a hundred vampires used to be. They laughed again, and charged Xander. 

The fighters were too busy with being overrun to be able to help Xander. Leaving Willow and Amy to do what they could to protect the fighters, Esmeralda ported. Straight next to Xander. She managed to catch him, and stared defiantly at the three wizards. They started throwing fireballs, ice shards, and bolts of lighting in her direction, and Esmeralda could do nothing but port to safety. Putting Xander down behind the line of magic-users, Esmeralda once against turned to the Triumvirate. 

Then, Luther ported in behind her, and grabbed Xander. He just managed to utter a cry of disgust as the small wizard grabbed him. He raised his hand, tried to cast a lowly fire bolt, _anything_ that would protect him. Willow, hearing her lifelong friend groan, turned around. Uttering a louder cry of disgust, she attacked Luther. Unfortunately, his was stronger than hers. Way stronger. Her spells were swept aside, and dispelled. 

Esmeralda had to intervene before Luther could port Xander away, but this left her back exposed. The Triumvirate made good use of this, and attacked her in the back. 

Glory, on the top of the dune, was seething. Her plan really wasn't going as it was supposed to. She stamped her foot, sending tremors through the ground. 

Then, five more people ported in. Duncan MacLeod. Maximus Decimus Meridius. Fellistina. Serena. Chulak. Team Dragon Wing had joined the fight! Immediately, the five members emptied what remained of their ammunition, before taking their stations. Chulak went to help the magic-users, while the four fighters joined the fighters of the Scooby Gang.

The Scooby Gang fighters, having had to dispose of two hundred Pit Fiends before engaging the raging horde of vampires, were exhausted. Team Dragon Wing took over, with the Scooby Gang pulling back, to try and recuperate a little. Unfortunately, Team Dragon Wing had fewer fighters. The vampires were beginning to press the valiant defenders back. 

The four magic-users tried their best to defend Xander, who was still on the floor, trying to recuperate. He was searching for a focal point, but found none near enough to be of assistance. Normally, he would port to the house he shared with Esmeralda, the top floor of which had become a meeting ground for Phoenix Force magic-users. Now he barely had the strength to lift a finger, let alone teleport. And Xander had no intention of abandoning his friends to go safely relax at home. He would stay. Stay and, if need be, fight. Xander's hand gripped the sword, and he took a deep breath. He managed to sit upright. 

The Triumvirate, plus Luther, seeing that the fighters were weakening, focused on the foursome of valiant magic-users trying to protect Xander. But, four dark Wizards against three sorcerers and a wizardess was not much of a match. The four dark wizards were enjoying their little play with the foursome below.

Then, a cry sounded through the air. Three second-level teams had appeared, the fights all over the world now slowly dying out. The three teams emptied their clips in the horde of vampires, before drawing handguns, emptying those, and charging in with what little fuel they had remaining in their flamethrowers. Two sorcerers and a sorceress joined the small band of magic-users.

"This isn't going well," Luther whispered, looking at the teams. 

Fire rumbled something, and stretched his hand towards the mortal members of Phoenix Force. A fireball left his hand. The Phoenix Force members, having developed a sixth sense through all the fighting, looked up at the right instant. They knew something was going to happen. They saw the ball taking shape. They saw it leave Fire's hand.

They ran. 

Not fast enough. The ball hit, scorching the three people. Esmeralda howled, throwing three minor healing balls in their direction. Death cast a dispel, managing to knock out two of the three balls. Only one made it. It made one member gasp, and veer up slightly as life was poured back into his body. Esmeralda shouted two higher-class healing spells, but Fire and Aqua's renewed attack on their positions forced her to abandon that pursuit, if for nothing else but to shield herself and her comrades, who were doing their best to do _something _to hurt the four wizards up in the sky.

"This is getting out of hand," Llewellyn whispered to Crevan, panting slightly as he did so. A shiny layer of sweat was visible on his skin.

Crevan looked at Giles who was trying to catch his breath. He looked at the threesome of Slayers, and he had to dig deep to find a time where they displayed such poor coordination and skill.

"We're all exhausted," Crevan replied, seeing that Team Dragon Wing was feeling the same thing. The second-level teams were out of ammo, and Immortals and Mortals alike were doing their best to stem the on flow of vampires. 

"We need to stop this, and we need to do it now," Llewellyn decided. "Patricia, Tell everyone to port into the Gate Room. If I get my wish, this will be a dead zone in a few moments!"

_Acknowledged, sir. The others are just finishing up. Estimates at 99% availability within ten minutes!_

Llewellyn didn't even hear the last part, stepping back from the front line, startling both good and evil. 

"What is he doing?" Luther asked. "Dominus Necarum is giving up?"

"We sent him running!" Fire barked in laughter.

"Hey, DN! Go back to Ingrid!" Aqua shouted.

Llewellyn slowly looked up, and retrieved something from him pocket. It was square in form, and wrapped in shiny silk. The unwrapped the silk, and it revealed a brass plate with an engraved marking. "Enki! Lord of magicians! Marduk! I summon thine assistance! Help me!"

"NO!" the four wizards shouted at the same time, charging downward, magical bolts gleaming as they were readied in the wizards' hands. The bolts left their hands before anyone could do anything to stop them.

Llewellyn simply looked in their oncoming direction. _One way or another, I either live, or die. If Lord Marduk helps, I live in all circumstances. Of he doesn't, I die. In all circumstances._

A big man, in flaming armor, carrying a glowing disk, and armed with a golden bow and a quiver of arrows, appeared in front of Llewellyn, and dispelled the magic bolts. The four wizards suddenly found their powers useless, and fell to the ground. 

"Lord…Lord Marduk," Llewellyn whispered. "Thank you."

**This entire battleground is now a deadzone! This is all I can do, Llewellyn Demonhunter! **

With those words, Marduk vanished. 

"All magic's useless," Esmeralda whispered, trying to raise some of her power. She couldn't. Her eyes gleaming, she drew her sword, and charged the stunned vampires, Willow and Amy in tow. The warriors of Phoenix Force, boosted by the appearance of an Elder God on their side no less, found new depths of strength as they too, engaged the vampires with renewed vigor.

The four wizards, defenseless without their magic, were cut down as an afterthought. Glory, still standing on the dune top, stared with open jaw as the battle turned against her. Four more teams, two level-two and two level-three, charged out of the building, having ported to the Gate Room, just as Llewellyn had requested. 

They too stared firing at the vampires, which were now more concerned with staying alive than winning the battle. They started to flee. Phoenix Force let them go, certainly as the sunlight started to return. With the deadzone active, the solar eclipse ended. 

"We'll get them later," Llewellyn told his troops. "Those that live, anyway." He was breathing very deeply, trying to recuperate.

Glory was pounding her foot on the sand dune in sheer anger. "Ooh! Now I am SO upset!" she shouted. "I'm going to _kill_ them myself!" screaming like a madwoman, Glory raced down the hill, charging the Phoenix Force warriors, who had foolishly dropped their guard and were now talking to one another. 

About halfway there, Glory pulled a sword. She was going to get the Key, if it was the last thing she did. The vampires had turned to ashes, which had now been scattered in the wind. She ignored the bodies of the Pit Fiends, oozing the black slime that was their blood. Shouting, she charged. At Buffy's unprotected back.

Llewellyn saw it just in time. Pushing her roughly out of the way, his hand reached out and grabbed hold of the blade. He ignored the blood seeping out of the wound created by the action. "You should have run when you had the chance," Llewellyn grunted at the Goddess of Hell.

"I'll KILL you!" Glory shouted, jerking the sword form Llewellyn's hand, cutting him deeply in the process. He responded by drawing his own sword. A dozen immortals did the same. The magic-users instinctively tried to access their magic. The deadzone soon came back to mind. 

Glory howled, and charged with blinding speed. At the support troops. 

"NO!" Llewellyn shouted, his voice carrying the authority of a dozen generals. Even Maximus stopped, frozen in his tracks by the sheer power of command that one word carried. Even Glory froze. 

"The bitch is ours," Llewellyn said, straightening out. "She personally attacked one of the Scooby Gang. Her forces nearly killed three of our mortal members. She nearly had one of our own killed. This is unforgivable. By the Ancient Laws of Blood-Revenge, I claim her for the Scooby Gang!"

"You heard the man!" Maximus shouted. "None of you is to interfere in this fight. Not even if they lose! That is the law!"

The mortal members of Phoenix Force muttered unhappily, yet complied. They formed a large circle around the Scooby Gang, which was now facing off against Glory.

Glory charged. The three Immortal Slayers counter-charged. Glory jumped up, and tornado-kicked Buffy in the face. She landed, swept Faith's legs from under her, and prepared to strike at Kendra. Kendra, meanwhile, hadn't remained still. She knew from fighting against Llewellyn to always be prepared for any eventuality. Kendra kicked Glory in the face as she righted herself. Glory was catapulted backwards. 

"The bitch is stronger than last time," Buffy groaned, retrieving her sword, and charging. Faith and Kendra charged alongside her.

"Yeah. Good," Faith said evilly. "All her work will be for nothing."

Kendra just nodded. Glory jumped up, and charged directly into the patch of the three Slayers. Since her sword had dropped when she had been kicked, Glory now had nothing but her hands to content herself with. Her two hands balled into fists, and she launched herself at the three Slayers, head bent downwards. One fist hit Buffy in the stomach. The other hit Kendra. Her head butted Faith in the ribs. 

"Ugh," Buffy moaned. "She's faster, too."

"Good," Faith managed. "I love a challenge."

Glory kept racing. Shouting, her sword pummeled downwards, to where Buffy was recuperating. Glory had heard of the relationship between the slayer and Dominus Necarum, and she hoped to drive his insane by killing her. Buffy rolled out of the way in time, and Glory had to hurriedly jump over a sweep kick by Kendra. Glory's leg shot out, and kicked Faith in the face, snapping her head back, breaking the dark-haired Slayer's neck. 

"Noo!!" Kendra shouted, attacking Glory head-on. The Hell God ducked under a horizontal slash, and avoided a slantwise downward strike that followed. Glory suddenly blasted forward, and hit Kendra in the stomach with her two hands. Kendra went down, groaning in pain, and coughing up blood. 

Buffy planted her sword through Glory's chest, forcing the Hell God to look at a bloody piece of metal sticking through her chest. 

Glory groaned, and twisted around. Buffy, startled, found herself disarmed. "Hey!" Glory whined. "That hurts, you know!" 

"So will this," Faith grunted, recuperated from her snapped neck. She attacked full force. Glory dodged, rolled away, and managed to get a hold of her own sword, discarded since the initial attack. Still with Buffy's sword through her chest, Glory started fighting Faith with ancient sword-style, lost since lost to mankind. 

Kendra groaned when she got up, grabbed her blade, and raced to help her partner. Fighting two enraged Slayers didn't seem too big of a problem for Glory, who seemed to counter with a very effective ancient technique. 

"By the Robe of the Great Mother," Llewellyn whispered. "Glory's good!" Seeing Buffy standing there, staring at her sword sticking out Glory's chest, Llewellyn drew his sword. 

"You're going to join in? In a team like that? You know that they fight best when it's just them! They can't read you like they can each other!" Crevan muttered.

Ignoring his student, Llewellyn threw the sword to Buffy. "Love! Catch!" 

Buffy jumped up, somersaulted, and grabbed the sword in mid-air. As soon as her feet touched the ground, the Slayer's beautiful face twisted in rage, and she launched at Glory. "GLORY!!!"

Glory swept Faith's legs from under her, smacking the Slayer's head into the floor so hard that Faith lost consciousness. At the same time, Glory ducked under a slash by Kendra, and trusted her blade upwards, slantwise, into Kendra's gut. Bringing the blade back down to decapitate Faith, Buffy arrived. Buffy managed to break the swing, making the blade miss its target. Glory now focused on the blonde Slayer.

"In a hurry to die, huh?" Glory asked, seeing Faith get up. "And won't you stay down?" she asked Faith exasperatingly.

"No!" Faith shouted, standing right next to Buffy. Kendra, healed, joined on the other side. 

Two Slayers were using their Slayer swords. The one in the middle was using Llewellyn's sword. The sight was magnificent. Three deadly beauties, with blades drawn, ready to strike. 

Glory's free hand grabbed the metal still sticking out of her chest. She pushed backwards. Gave a small groan as the sword shoved back. Gave another groan, then a bigger one, when the blade actually fell out. Thinking Glory distracted, the three Slayers charged. Glory jumped up, made a backwards somersault, and grabbed Buffy's Slayer sword off the ground. 

"Now die!" Glory shouted, throwing the swords through Kendra's and Faith's hearts. The two Slayers died instantly, unable to revive as long as the swords were in there. Llewellyn and Crevan rushed forward to help the two incapacitated Slayers.

Meanwhile, Glory and Buffy weren't knitting socks. The Hell God and the Slayer were pounding away at each other like mad. Only, Glory had the advantage. Soon, Buffy found herself on her back, and the decapitating slash was coming closer. 

A strong hand grabbed the blade in mid-swing. Blood dripped form the hand, and Buffy stared up at the man who had saved her.

"Honey," Buffy whispered. Llewellyn threw her a cold look.

"Okay?" he asked curtly. Buffy, frowning, nodded. "Good," Llewellyn replied, his face not twitching a muscle. He grabbed his sword, taken from Buffy by Glory, and ripped it from the Hell God's hands. 

"Thou does NOT hurt my woman!" Llewellyn shouted, his eyes wild. Something radiated from him, something that sent cold shivers down the spines of the people there. 

Glory cocked her head, and stared at him. She lunged, grabbed her sword, sticking out of Kendra's chest, and drew it, sending blood, some bone, and heart-tissue flying. 

She charged. Llewellyn sidestepped, and slammed the handle of his sword in her neck. 

"I shall take you apart!" Llewellyn shouted, advancing on Glory. His entire posture radiated something. Something evil…

"Just _who_ are you?" Glory shouted. "No one can do that to me!"

Llewellyn continued on the same icy _evil_ tone, "We did it once, Glorificus. We can do it again!"

"I was lazy!" Glory shouted, lunging at Llewellyn, who blocked, seemingly without too much effort. He swept at her legs, but she jumped up, and somersaulted over him. He turned around, seemingly not caring that the woman who had just beaten the crap out of three Slayers as standing behind him, carrying a sword. "I've been training! I'm the best! Now answer the question! Tell me who the FUCK you are!"

"They call me Lightning. I was the one who taught the Scourge of God!"

Glory's mouth opened, and she took a step back. The other members of the Scooby Gang gaped as well. Buffy looked at her husband. No. Not her husband, and Buffy knew it. That was Lightning. The man who had made killing an art, and perfected it. The man whose art had remained perfected for hundreds of years. 

When she had said she was okay, Llewellyn had let go… the screaming mad warrior who faced a Master Vampire, and beat it. Buffy looked at Lightning as he charged Glory. This one was different, she knew. Last time, Llewellyn had been in charge, and he had just tapped into Lighting's abilities. This time, Llewellyn had _become_ Lightning. 

"I will rip out your heart, and eat it before you die!" Lightning shouted, two more strokes barely blocked by Glory.

"Jesus Christ!" Glory cursed. "Why in HELL didn't you join me? You're more evil than I am!"

Lightning glared at Glory, then motioned with his head towards Buffy. "Her."

Glory laughed. Loudly. "So? A warrior like you shouldn't be tied down to…to…a _slut _like her!"

Lightning's face twisted. He howled. Like a wolf. His eyes took on something animalistic. Fur grew all over his body, and his ear elongated. 

_A Druid never stands alone. He or she can always call in the spirits of nature to help. The werewolf,_ Buffy's mind recalled. 

Howling, Lighting's newly-grown long teeth gleaming in the evening sun, he charged Glory, who was now backing away. Phoenix Force members too, were looking fearfully at the half-man half-wolf. 

"There is no such thing as overkill," Crevan said semi-out loud. Amy and Willow, standing close to him, couldn't do anything but nod.

Lightning's free left hand slashed at Glory, who dodged out of the way of the long claws. The next thing she knew, Lightning had jumped on top of her, and pushed her down to the floor, his long claws digging deep into her flesh. Glory grunted in pain.

She kicked Lightning between the legs, even in wolf-mode an especially vulnerable spot. Lightning howled in pain, reared up, and rolled away. Glory charged. Lightning rolled out of the way of her downwards strike, and managed to find the strength to climb to his legs. 

He grabbed his sword, and got into an attack pose. Glory countered with another ancient stance, ready to receive his onslaught. Lightning growled, his wolf-transformation making the growl sound really, really scary. 

"You insulted my wife," Lighting growled, his voice deep and throaty. It sent shivers down the spine of the people present. "You will die for that."

Glory just smiled. "I could've called her lots better things than slut. Like _whore_, for instance."

Lightning charged. The next moment, he was standing in front of Glory, his sword through her heart, suspending her in mid-air like a rag doll. Glory groaned, not yet dead. Lightning drew the sword, letting Glory fall to the ground. The wound closed almost instantly, but Lighting had no intention of letting her heal completely. The sword struck off her head with a single mighty blow. 

The wolf-spirit was released. But Lighting hadn't gone yet. He walked to the lifeless corpse, and slammed his hand through her chest, grabbing the dead body's heart, and ripped it out. 

He looked at it, and everyone thought he might actually eat it, just as he had promised. "It's not worth it," Lighting grunted, throwing the muscle down on the shattered concrete floor, right next to Glory's body. At that moment, Lighting's strength gave out, and he sunk to his knees. Last thing he saw before losing consciousness was Buffy's face, smiling at him. 

"You did it, Honey! You killed her…"

Jean-Luc Picard of the USS Enterprise NCC-1701-E was looking at the purple-blue planet rotating lazily on the main screen. _How one tiny planet could bring so much trouble, _ Picard thought.

"Still no sign of the missing science teams, or of the security team, Sir," Commander Riker reported. 

"Counselor?" Picard asked Deanna Troi, the ship's empathic counselor.

She shook her head as she closed her eyes in concentration. "All I feel is a hunger, as if someone is starving. And there's also a desperation, as if whoever is down there is willing to kill in order to feed."

Picard and Riker shared a glance. "Mr. Data, what are the sensor readings?"

"Running a new scan now, Sir," the android officer reported. "Intriguing. We are reading movement, but there are no thermal readings."

"Wind?" Picard asked.

Data shook his head. "No, Sir. One moment, I will put the readings on screen."

A thermal image replaced the lazily spinning purple-blue orb that was the planet of Dycos IV. The image was entirely made up of blues, and the bridge crew could make out plants, trees, and buildings. And yes, movement. The figures seemed to be humanoid in appearance, but their thermal readings showed that they were almost of the same temperature as their surroundings.

"That is strange," Picard agreed. 

"Maybe we should send an Away-Team?" Riker suggested. 

Picard thought that over. "We already lost two science teams and a security team. I would rather not take the risk of losing another team."

Riker mulled that over for a second, then nodded. "You're right, Sir."

"Starship decloaking off our port bow!" Data reported suddenly.

"On screen!" Picard ordered. The view changed, to show a sleek vessel, clearly Federation in design, but with a cloaking device? Such a device was forbidden in the Federation!

"We are being hailed, Sir," Riker reported from his station. 

"On screen," Picard answered. 

"It's encoded, Sir. Priority Classification One, Captain's Eyes Only. Security encryption Omega-Five," Data answered. 

"Omega-Five?" Picard asked, getting up form his chair. Riker shot him a meaningful look. Omega-Five was rarely used, the tremendous decryption and encryption sequences taking too long to make long-distance communication possible. _Whoever was on that unknown ship must really be paranoid,_ Picard thought as he entered his ready room.

He entered his security code, and waited for the computer to start the decryption sequence. 

"Good day, Captain," the man greeted him immediately. 

"Good day to you, Sir. Who am I speaking to?" Picard asked. 

The man smiled. "What I am to tell you must remain secret, Captain. Under the orders of the Federation Charter, section 32."

"There is no such thing," Picard said, immediately feeling the hairs at the back of his neck stand up. Something was amiss.

"Because we didn't want it to be known, Captain," the man said. "Anyway, I know I can trust you. I've always been a good judge of character. My name is Llewellyn, and I work for an organization called Phoenix Force…"


End file.
